Steele Settling In
by RSteele82
Summary: Written at the request of BigFan59. Taking place after Steele Searching II, this story continues on from Steele Working Out the Details as Remington and Laura arrive home in LA. The ghosts of the night Laura's decision tore them apart still linger, and the couple spends a weekend together to get past their fears and lay the groundwork for a deeper relationship.
1. Chapter 1

This is written at the request of BigFan59.

These scenes are a sequel Steele Working out the Details, and take place after Steele Searching Part II and prior to Season 4's Steele Blushing.

As always the same glop applies: I do not own the characters in any manner, I am simply borrowing them for a little creativity.

Feedback is always welcome. You can give me a shout at RSteele82 at the dreaded hot mail dot com.

If there is scene from one of the episodes that you would like expounded on, by all means let me know and I'll give it a whirl.

* * *

Steele Settling In

(Chapter One)

Laura and Steele enjoyed a leisurely dinner at Simpson-in-the-Strand. Steele wanted to provide Laura at least a glimpse of the historic and charming London he knew, at least in his later life, as she had been deprived of truly experiencing London thus far. She had come to London to find him, to bring him home with her and in the time since had helped catch a serial killer and foil the Earl of Claridge's assassination. Her journeys had taken her through the seedier parts of London, and had nearly cost Laura her life at one point. Then, of course she had held up with him in the dirty, run-down flop house while she had tended his wounds and where they, together, had begun to heal.

But she had not seen the majesty that London held during her time here.

He'd chosen Simpson-in-the-Strand after considerable thought on the matter. Simpson's would hold its 160th anniversary the following year, having opened originally as a chess house in 1828. Years later it would become one of the finest dining establishments in London. The walnut walls of the establishment were polished until they shone, tables covered with crisp white linens, while chefs served patrons tableside on the finest of china. It was elegance, it was sophistication and the history of London at its very best. Thankfully, after nabbing a serial killer and preventing a member of royalty's assassination, the name Remington Steele now had some sway in England and he'd managed to get a reservation for them that evening, on very short notice.

That afternoon they had dined at a local pub that served typical British lunch fair, with some more Americanized selections for tourists. The idea of indulging themselves in a night of sumptuous London nightlife had not even been a consideration. He knew the trip to London for she and Mildred had likely cost the Agency a small fortune and would not have deigned to suggest that they drain the coffers further.

After lunch Mildred had scurried off to run an errand, while he and Laura had returned to her room where talk had centered on his confiscated passports. He had just started to resign himself to the fact that he would be stranded in London, when Mildred returned with a gift that had absolutely humbled him: a passport with the name Remington Steele emblazoned upon it.

After Mildred left the room, Steele had stood and enveloped Laura in his arms.

"However did you manage this?" he'd asked.

"I had your birth certificate and a copy of your driver's license expedited over from LA after your passports were confiscated. Then, with a little help from the Earl, some red tape was overlooked at his request, and voila, a passport."

"You never cease to amaze me, Miss Holt," he'd told her tenderly, before leaning down to press his lips gently to her own.

A knock on the door in the adjoining room, had interrupted the kiss. They'd both turned their heads towards the other room and had begun to laugh.

"Apparently, even in London we can't kiss uninterrupted," he'd commented as he released her from his arms and strode through her room then his to answer the door. A bellboy handed him an envelope and had departed immediately after receiving his tip. Laura stood by his side, and they'd opened it together.

He and Laura had stared stunned at the bank note he held in his hand from the Earl of Claridge. The accompanying note stated it was the Earl's hope that the ten-thousand pounds would cover their expenses incurred while in London. Further, the Earl wished their presence at his post-marital celebration being held at 9 p.m. that evening at Café Paris.

The surprise windfall had opened the door for him to ask Laura to dine together at Simpson's that evening and consequently, in light of the Earl's invitation, had sent she and Mildred to Knightsbridge to search Harrod's for attire suitable for the evening's plans. After their return, Mildred had begged off of dinner, claiming to need a nap before joining them at Café Paris, while he and Laura had adjourned to their individual rooms to dress for the evening.

Now, ensconced in the sumptuous restaurant, Steele found himself unable to concentrate on the roast rib of Scottish beef set before him. The fare was delightful, but not nearly as exquisite as the woman sitting across from him. Laura wore a sleeveless, one-shouldered, white, silk sheath that hugged her gentle curves before falling to the floor. Her hair was swept up, showing off her long, graceful neck and delicate shoulders, while leaving her delectable freckles exposed to his eyes, all but begging for him to reach out and touch them. He watched as she blushed faintly under his admiring eye.

Steele reached across the table and brushed his fingers across the fingertips of Laura's hand, before taking her hand in his own.

"Have I told you that you look especially beautiful tonight?" he asked her softly.

"And you look _very_ handsome," she told him.

Steele picked up her hand, while leaning across the table to brush his lips across her fingers bringing a smile of contented pleasure to Laura's lips. Sitting back, he kept her hand in his own, his fingers steadily brushing against the back of her hand.

"You've no idea what it means to me that we're here, together," he told her, his sincerity emblazoned upon his voice.

"I know how much it means to me," she told him, with a slight tremor in her voice. Then purposefully trying to lighten the mood, she reminded him, "You promised to tell me the history of the restaurant."

"Indeed I did," he acknowledged, knowing that she, in her own way, trying to assure him everything would be okay between them. Giving her hand a final pat, he sat fully, then reaching for his fork began to relate the history of the landmark restaurant.

After their dinner plates were cleared, desert was delivered: Simpson's well-regarded triple chocolate mousse. Steele watched with pure pleasure as Laura's eyes lit with delight and her tongue quickly flicked against her lips in anticipation of tasting the decadent treat. He knew, well, her addiction to chocolate, and seldom indulged himself in tempting her so that he could watch her joy as she partook of it. Tonight, however, he knew the meal would not be complete until she had experienced the rich desert offered by Simpson's.

He watched, enraptured as she tucked herself into the mousse, her eyes constantly finding his, her lips continually lifting upwards in bliss. He had never realized before her what a sensual experience it could be, watching someone enjoy a simple desert. But sensual it was, and he knew she had not a clue of what she was doing to him as she lifted the spoonful of sweet, creamy chocolate to her mouth, swiping half of the spoon's contents off with her lips, before turning the spoon over then cleaning the spoon of its contents with the tongue inside her mouth, while her eyes closed with pleasure. He began to shift in his seat, watching her, as his mind inevitably wandered to her doing to him what she was doing to that spoon and he would have sworn she had begun enunciating and prolonging each action.

Laura had no idea, initially, of the libidinous spell she had weaved around him, but midway through enjoying the desert she had seen his normally bright blue eyes darken to nearly indigo with desire. The thought that simply watching her eat a desert was stirring his desire so deeply both surprised and empowered her simultaneously. She intentionally slowed her actions, emphasizing them, watching under her lashes with a sense of self-satisfaction as his body temperature rose with each move she made. What she had not counted on as she continued to tempt him, was that watching his reaction to her movements would stir her own body the way it was. The combined knowledge that simply watching her eat could stir the intensity of his need for her coupled with the realization of how much restraint he must have used across the years as he continued to wait for her to come to him served as a potent stimulant. She felt as her respiration began to become more shallow, as prickles of heat spread across her.

Lifting the last of the mousse on her spoon, Laura silently offered it to him. Steele's passion filled eyes met her own, and he shook his head slightly. Laura lifted the spoon to her mouth, her eyes still holding his own, and spooned the rich substance in her mouth, knowing by his look that the moment they were alone together, he would sample the treat for himself. Unable to help herself, her mouth quirked up at the corner. The movement did not escape his notice, and he raised a single brow at her letting her know.

Steele was thankful for the several minutes it took to receive his bill then the follow up credit slip to sign. He needed the time to tamp down his body's response to Laura… for the evidence of that response to diminish if you will. When at last the bill was paid, he stood and pulling out Laura's chair for her, held out his hand to help her up, before leading her from the restaurant with his hand laid softly on the small of her back.

He had never been as thankful for a taxi being nearby as he was at the moment. After giving a hand into the taxi to Laura, he followed behind, closing the door, wasting no time in giving the driver direction.

He then turned smoldering eyes on Laura, to find her waiting expectantly for his request.

"Come here, Laura," he beckoned quietly, while reaching a hand out to run along the length of her neck, before his fingers rubbed against the back of it, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine.

Without hesitation, Laura moved willingly into Steele's arms. Lifting her chin up, she locked her eyes with his, watching while his lips slowly descended down upon her own. Given his response to her in the restaurant, she had expected him to take passionate possession of her lips. The kiss was anything but that.

He pressed his lips softly to her own, letting them linger, before moving only slightly away, only to return and gently tease her lips, making her ache for more. Pulling away, he looked down at her, waited for her eyes to connect with his, then moved a hand up to cup the side of her face, rubbing his thumb against her slightly parted lips. When her chin moved ever so slightly upwards again, he shifted his hand backwards to lay on her cheek as his lips descended to hers once more, to brush against them, several times before he lightly swept his tongue along the top of her full, bottom lip.

"Delicious," he murmured, before claiming her bottom lip with both of his, giving it a soft tug then releasing it.

"The mousse?" she asked breathlessly, then brushed her own lips against his.

Dragging his lips away from hers, Steele's other hand joined his first on her opposite check, his fingers stroking them as he looked down at her.

"You," he said with soft sincerity, once her eyes found his own. "The mousse was merely a sweet prelude to the appetizer."

His lips returned to hers, pressing faintly against them, before he slowly increased the pressure. With the slightest contact of his tongue she parted her lips and his tongue languidly moved into her mouth, touching, discovering, before he shifted his body slightly higher on the seat to better allow him a deeper, more thorough exploration. Electricity born of a deep yearning to be even closer to her coursed through his veins when she swept her tongue against his own. She felt his body quake, briefly, imploring her to run her hands up his back to drag his body closer to her own. His thirst to taste her only increased exponentially with her ardent response.

With a rumble of pleasure at her touch, Steele's lips journeyed away from her lips, to explore the soft, pliant skin of her neck, his mouth alternating between kissing it and carefully sucking the skin into his mouth to savor the taste of her. Laura threw her head back, to allow him more access, while her hand ran through the back of his hair. She gasped when his lips then his tongue found the hollow of her throat, then sighed in pleasure as he carefully suckled her skin there as well, while his hand caressed her bare shoulder.

This time it was Laura who pulled away, her chest rising and falling rapidly in response to his assault on her senses. She looked up at him, then lifted a hand to run it along his jaw, before she pulled him towards her again. She feathered her lips across his own before she allowed herself the enjoy the taste of his own skin as her lips moved to his neck. Pausing, she shifted slightly away from him, waiting for his eyes to seek her own. Holding his gaze, her hands worked to loosen his tie, then opened the first four buttons of his shirt, the need to touch him overwhelming. She slipped her hand inside his shirt and ran her hand along his upper chest, watching his eyes darken with the pleasure of her touch. He was unable to stop the quiet groan of rapture that the sensation of her hand against his skin wrought out of him. This time, when his lips seized her own, it was in purely masculine need to claim her.

Grabbing her by the upper arms, Steele ripped his mouth away, and threw himself back against the seat, breaking all contact.

"Bloody hell," he panted. Seeing Laura's look of dazed passion, he leaned down and touched her lips softly to with his own, briefly, then leaned back once more. His fingers began securing the buttons of his shirt, before moving to adjust his tie.

"We're quickly reaching the point, Miss Holt, where either we go back to the hotel and complete what we've started here or, absent that, we need to stop before we arrive at Café Paris in a such a state that everyone will know exactly how we've been passing time."

"And what state is that, Mr. Steele?" Laura asked with feigned nonchalance, while she tried to catch her breath as she smoothed her hands over hair to make sure it was still in place.

"The state in which you have been clearly been well kissed, while I…" he left the words unsaid, but shifted in his seat trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Enjoyed your dessert then?" she teased.

Steele turned his head to look at her, his eyes nearly indigo with the need her lips, her touch, had stirred within him.

"Appetizer, Laura, appetizer… a small taste of what it will be like between us one day when we indulge in all five courses," he told her quietly, as he picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. Dropping her hand from his mouth, he laced his fingers between her own before bringing both their hands to lay down on the seat between them.

Two short minutes later, the taxi pulled up in front Café Paris. After paying the driver, Steele climbed out of the car, before offering Laura his hand and assisting her out of the backseat. As they turned to climb the stairs in front of the classic building, he laid his hand on the small of her back. After checking their coats, he placed his hand back on her back, as they made their way to the private ballroom.

The celebration was in full bloom when they arrived. Descending the grand staircase together, Steele noted the numerous, appreciative looks Laura received from young men below. Running his eyes over her again, he remembered fully his reaction at first seeing her this evening. He was overwhelmed by the need to lay claim to her, to make it clear to her admirers that she was already committed.

Adjusting the hand on her back so it now lay on her waist, he leaned down and pressed his lips against the side of her neck briefly before continuing to escort her down the stairs.

"What was that for?" she asked curiously, as neither of them were prone to public displays of affection.

"Seems you have caught the eye of any number of young men," he told her, nodding towards the ballroom floor. "Suddenly felt the need to … well, mark my territory, if you will?"

Laura automatically stiffened, as she felt her hackles rise at anyone viewing her as property. Just as quickly, she relaxed again. He had not been the only one to note glances sent their way, although she had been purely focused on the several women who had taken one look at Steele and decided they wanted to make him their next meal – at least based on the hungry looks they had sent his way. Being committed to him, and him to her, opened up a whole host of opportunities that had not existed before, including allowing her to make it clear he was taken, off limits, as well.

"Well, in that case…" she smiled.

Laura stopped moving causing Steele to turn towards her to see what was amiss, allowing Laura to step in close to him. He wrapped his arms automatically around her waist as her arms circle his neck. Steele looked down at her, a smiled tugging on his lips, and met her lips half-way for a brief, albeit it purposeful, kiss.

"What was that for?" he asked, echoing her early question while smiling down at her.

"What's sauce for the gander… You have some admirers of your own," she said smiling up at him while nodding her head back towards the dance floor. "I suddenly felt the need to mark some territory of my own."

"Why, Miss Holt, I'm touched," he told her with sincerity. Releasing her from his arms, he reached out for her hand, and lacing his fingers through her own, walked down the last three steps with her before starting leisurely across the ballroom floor.

"Why?" she asked, a bit baffled.

"I don't recall a time when you have ever made it apparent that we were… involved, whereas I have done so on numerous occasions."

"You have not," she accused laughingly.

He turned his head towards her and raised a brow.

"I quite assure you I have."

"When?"

"Often enough."

"I've never seen you…"

"That's because generally a look will suffice. I've never come to blows, although I must admit a certain satisfaction that when we proved Phillips a murderer, I was able to plant my fist in his smug face."

"So I saw. You never liked the man from the start, that was clear. Instincts?" she asked, still curious two years later why Steele had taken an instant disliking to the man, although she was well aware of what had cemented that opinion.

"Time for that talk later. Now, we must extend our glad tidings to the Earl and his new wife," he told her, noting with his eyes they were mere steps away.

"Miss Holt, you look lovely this evening," the Earl greeted her, with a kiss on each cheek, before holding out a hand to Steele. "Mr. Steele, I'm happy you could join us."

"It's our pleasure," Steele acknowledged.

The two couples exchanged small talk for a good while, before Steele excused Laura and himself. Steele held out his arm, and after Laura laid her arm on it, walked her out onto the dance floor. He turned and wrapped an arm around her before taking her other hand in his own. Laura's hand free arm ran around his back, skimming up it before it lay on top of his shoulder. There were soon lost in the melody and each other.

They danced in silent enjoyment for a long while, before Laura looked up and found Steele gazing tenderly down at her. Flustered for a moment, she fought for something to say.

"We haven't danced…"

"Since Top of the Mark in San Francisco," he finished her thought.

"Even with crooked cops trying to chase us down, it was… nice." _Nice. Perfect Laura. It was one far more than nice…_ she thought to herself.

"It was splendid," Steele corrected quietly. "You in my arms, the view of San Francisco before us, the music. This…"

Steele leaned down and barely touched his lips to her own. Laura's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, before her hand wrapped over the top of his shoulder, giving him a soft tug. She tipped her chin up meeting his lips with her own, softly, briefly once more.

"We probably shouldn't be doing that here," she said with a sigh.

"Why not?"

"People are watching…"she pointed out, glancing around the room.

Steele glanced around the room and found a few people were indeed watching them. He mulled it over for a moment, then gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Let them find somebody of their own to kiss," he said mildly, leaning down to brush his lips against hers again, then once their lips separated tilted his head, his eyes catching and holding her own in silent question.

Laura gazed into his eyes for several long moments, while trying to make a decision. They were going home committed to one another, with an agreement to concentrate on their personal relationship, both knowing they wanted whatever it was between the two of them to move forward. If they continued to hide their relationship from the world around them, it would only pose another roadblock to overcome down the line. She was bone tired of the roadblocks, of all the walls. She didn't want to hide what they were to one another, personally, any longer, knowing it would likely only tear them apart once more.

Laura ran her hand over Steele's back, until her hand lay at the nape of his neck, her fingers brushing softly against it, as she lifted her chin and watched as his lips came down to join her own once more. She shivered at the look of contentment that passed over his face, through his eyes. They continued to exchange small kisses until the music ended, before he took her by the hand and led her off the floor.

They had a wonderful evening together, speaking with their hosts, making new associations, spending time with Mildred and dancing some more. When Steele glanced at his watch and saw it was approaching midnight, he leaned down speak softly in her ear. He smiled as she unconsciously laid a hand on the back of his head as he did so.

"It's nearly midnight, Laura. With a 9 a.m. flight back to LA in the morning, we'll need to be up in only six hours or so."

Laura nodded in acknowledgment. Steele and Laura took their leave from the group they were speaking to and after bidding the Earl and Countess well wishes, they gathered up Mildred then their coats and caught a taxi back to the hotel. Dropping Mildred at her room, with an agreement to meet in the lobby at 7 a.m., the couple headed back to their rooms. Taking Laura's key from her, he opened the door then followed her in.

"Why don't we both get packed up and ready for bed, then when you're ready, come back here and I'll get those wounds treated," Laura suggested.

Steele thought, momentarily, about arguing he could take care of the wounds on his own but found her rather liked the idea of her continuing to minister to them. _That, of course, would have nothing whatsoever to do with the fact it would mean feeling Laura's fingers on my bare skin again_ , he mused.

"Fine, I'll see you shortly," he agreed amicably, then adjourned to his own room through the adjoining room, never noticing Laura's grin or the slight shake of her head, as she acknowledged to herself why he was being so cooperative.

Forty-five minutes later, both were packed, showered and dressed for bed. Laura nodded that he should stretch out on her bed, as he had earlier in the day while she treated his wounds.

"Lose the shirt, Mr. Steele. It'll only be in the way," she pointed out to him.

Steele stripped the pajama shirt off and laid it at the food of her bed, before stretching out. He watched while she gathered together the supplies she would need, admiring how her damp hair had sprung up in curls. While he wasn't adverse, necessarily, to her tendency to wear her hair up, he adored when she left her hair down, where he could freely touch the silken strand, but this was the look he loved the most as there was something that simply tugged at his heart when she allowed it to simply curl of its own free will.

Laura sat down on the bed next to him after depositing the gauze pads, tape and scissors on the bedside table. She winced with him as she pulled the tape from his stomach. Examining the interior of the pad, she smiled.

"No new bleeding," she noted, relieved. "Now, Mr. Steele, to continue the talk we were having when we first arrive at Café Paris this evening. What was it with you and Creighton Phillips?"

"I should think you know, Laura. We spoke of it at the time," he answered.

"You were jealous," she accused with amusement.

"Hmmmmm," he acknowledged wordlessly.

"Which, of course, you denied at the time," she pointed out.

"No more so than you'd have denied being jealous of Felicia…"

 _Touché_ , Laura thought to herself.

"Although, come to think of it, you certainly did express your jealousy quite adamantly," he grinned.

"I did no such thing!" Laura protested.

"A heel in the top of my foot, if I recall. Whatever was that bang on the wall outside my flat when you stormed out?" he pondered, playfully, aloud.

"My hand hitting it," Laura laughed.

Laura clipped off a section of packing in each wound and tossed it into the waste basket near the night stand. Grabbing a fresh gauze pad, she placed it over his wound then set about taping it down. Steele watched her thoughtfully as she worked and weighed the pros and cons of asking the question he had on his mind, but decided in the end to do so.

"Why the question about Phillips, Laura?"

Laura glanced up from what she was doing, surprised by the question. Pausing in her work, she looked upwards thinking it over.

"Hmmmmm. I guess because that is the only time, other than when you thought Donald and I were meeting to have secret assignations and of course when you walked in on Murphy kissing me, that I can recall you taking issue with other men and their interest in me. Yet you claim you have shooed off any number of men across time."

"Looking for a little flattery then, eh?" he teased.

"Certainly not!" she stated vehemently while glaring at him.

"Phillips, Murphy, Donald, Giovanni, Teddy, Beamus, Dominick, Milton, Bill Smith, Jeffries, Freddie Smith, Plat, …" Steele commented, beginning to roll out the list of men that had gotten under his skin at one time or another. He had intentionally omitted Westfield as that wound was still quite raw.

"Surely you don't expect me to believe that you warned all of them off?" she asked incredulously.

"No, certainly not. Those are simply some of the men in your life that have pricked my hide over the years," he shrugged.

"Milton? Why Milton? There was never anything between us, not even a flirtation."

"Ahhhhh, but if I spend any time pondering the thought of him calling you Binky and why he does so, it's enough to keep me awake at night."

Laura laughed with delight.

"And Wilson? The two of you got along splendidly, if I recall correctly and I know I do."

"Yes, at least then. Had I known then the extent of the harm he'd done you, it wouldn't have been the case a'tall."

Laura nodded at him, then patted his stomach above the gauze pad.

"All done. You can get dressed, and I suppose we should get to bed. We'll only get a few hours of sleep as it is."

Laura stood and walked across the living room to pack the gauze and tape in her overnight bag, leaving the scissors on the bedside table for the morning.

Steele swung his legs over the side of the bed, but remained sitting there. She had opened up a wound, unknowingly, asking about the men he had shooed away. He had not told her, perhaps never would, that the night she had ended things with him, he had been at the airport, had seen her get on the plane to go away with Westfield. It was seeing that which had been his impetus to leave, to go to London, to try to find a name, to prove to her what she meant to him. He had wondered for four months if it was her dalliance with Westfield that had ended them or if it was something he had done. He had realized that he needed the answer before they returned home. He couldn't say why. It simply just was.

Laura turned, expecting to find him dressed and ready to head to his bed. When she saw him still sitting on the side of the bed, lost in thought, rubbing his hands up and down his face, a frisson of fear ran up her spine.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked, trying mightily to keep the trill of fear out of her voice.

Steele dropped his hands from his face, then deeply exhaled. Resting his elbows on his knees, he turned his head to look at her.

"At the risk of ruining a perfect evening, I need to ask you something, Laura. I can't tell you why, as I've no idea myself, but I need to know before we go home."

Laura felt that frisson of fear turn into a rock in the pit of her stomach. Had he changed his mind then? Had her prying into the past – to flatter her own vanity as he had suggested – pushed him away? Would she awaken tomorrow ready to leave for the airport and find him gone?

"Wh…wh...what…" she stammered, then cleared her throat, continuing on as though she had not stumbled. "What do you need to know?"

"What had I done this time to make you decide to end us? Was it my ruse to get you alone in San Francisco? The bit with the licenses holds no weight as we knew we would get them back. So what had I done?" The question had been as difficult for him to ask, as her own to him a moment before had been for her.

Laura felt the rock turn into a boulder. She had gone over this in her own mind for months. While it has been a ready excuse, the licenses being suspended, she had known before stepping on the plane to join Westfield on a trip to Mexico, that that is all the licenses were: an excuse. She'd decided on her drive to the airport that it was because they were unsuited. She needed a man like Westfield: steady, reliable, good 'ole Protestant work ethic, no mysterious past, no reason to fear. Yet, by the time she sat in the seat beside Westfield, she knew that wasn't true either. Suited or not, her heart lay with the Irishman she had just left. It had taken the better part of two months to figure it out. Ironically, the reason was both the cause of her breaking things off with him and the cause of her coming to London to find him.

Laura walked across the room and sat on the bed next to Steele. She then turned on the bed, one leg on the bed, one off, so she could face him when she spoke.

"It wasn't your ruse to get me to San Francisco. I told you then it was the most romantic things anyone had ever done for me and it was, at least up until that point."

He felt as though he had been punched in the gut. _So, it was Westfield, after all. The man had somehow swept her off her feet. After all the years of trying and in one day he accomplishes what I could not_ , he thought to himself.

"Top of the Mark," she said abruptly.

The name of the restaurant coming completely out of the blue so surprised him that it snapped him out of his dark thoughts.

"The restaurant? What on earth does that have to do with anything?" he asked, completely befuddled.

"That night, at the Top of the Mark, that's what made me end it."

"What on earth for? We had dinner, we danced. I don't recall anything untoward happening."

"I told you that night. I just didn't realize I had, you didn't realize I had. At least neither of us realized what it would mean…"

* * *

 _ **Relax. Relax," Steele had told her, as he held her stiff in his arms on the dance floor.**_

 _ **"We can't very well spend the rest of our lives hiding in the middle of the dance floor."**_

 _ **"We're not hiding. We're waiting."**_

 _ **"Rita Del Rio isn't going to show. Maybe we should go back to the bar and try and find her."**_

 _ **"Well, if we bump into Inspector, uh, Barney Neill, what do you suggest we do, call the cops?"**_

 _ **"Well, providing those other gentlemen are also members of San Francisco's finest, why do the police want to see us dead?"**_

 _ **"Don't happen to have any unpaid parking tickets, do you?"**_

 _ **She had laughed.**_

 _ **"I can see you're taking this with your usual blend of caution and concern."**_

 _ **"If these are to be our last days, I mean, at least we're spending them in elegant splendor, don't you think?"**_

 _ **"Oh, the hell with our killer cops. Let's enjoy the night and the music."**_

 _ **"Now you see the wisdom of my strategy."**_

 _ **"You know, that is one of the problems with us. It came to me one, lonely night. It wasn't exactly the burning bush, but still it got my attention. You're uh- You're one of the things that I have to guard against. The part of me that I can't ever allow myself to be. Reckless, indulgent, frivolous . . ."**_

 _ **"Sounds irresistible."**_

 _ **"Seductive at any rate. And very dangerous."**_

* * *

"Perhaps I'm being daft, but I still don't understand," he told her, turning to sit facing her now.

"I threw caution to the wind that night, both personally and professionally. Knowingly, willingly. I had just told you that I could not be frivolous, reckless, indulgent. Yet rather than trying to find out why some members of the SFPD seemed determined to see us dead, I tossed aside those concerns. The only thing I cared about at the moment was being held in your arms, dancing with you… kissing you. There we were, in the middle of a case, and I didn't care. There were people trying to kill us, and I didn't care. I only cared that the time we spent on that dance floor was the most romantic experience og my life. And that was only because I was there with you."

"When DelRio showed up, you were right back to business, Laura," he pointed out.

"True. But it didn't change the fact that for that time period, I had stopped being responsible, professional," she took a deep breath, then let it go. "I had allowed myself to be the old Laura."

"And you blamed me for making that happen."

"It took me nearly two months of trying to figure out what had happened, why I'd done what I had to understand it. But yes, I blamed you."

Steele stood and swiped his hands through his hair, began to pace.

"Bloody hell, Laura. You've painted us into a corner here."

"I don't understand? What do you mean?" she asked, clearly perplexed by his response.

"Just this afternoon we recognized that in order for us to move what is between us forward, we have to work towards getting you to relax, to let go of all these inhibitions that keep you from believing in yourself, in us. But now, you just said you broke us off because you let go of some of those inhibitions, just for a moment. How do we get around this? Damned if we do, damned if we don't!"

"You already solved that problem, didn't you?" she asked, trying to speak calmly in the face of his mounting frustration.

"Oh, how is that?" he asked.

"When you said we need to separate our personal and private lives. Remember? 'Time to ourselves, phone off the hook, leave our professional lives at the door.' We are great partners, Mr. Steele, professionally speaking. That has never been the issue between us. The issue has always been trying to squeeze our personal life into the professional one, constantly blurring the lines. By taking time for just us, those lines become clear."

"Will that be so easy for you? Or once we are home, will you change your mind?"

"I've already done it, haven't I? I shut down the Agency, regardless of the consequences, regardless of the loss of income. It is a bit of the old Laura coming out that I am here at all. I didn't come here to bring Remington Steele, my boss, home although I do miss my partner. I came here to bring you home, because I need us, want us."

Steele felt the weight of the world fall off his shoulders, her words helping soothe him, eliminate the doubt. Partners at work, couple at play; buttoned down, free; rules, feelings. He closed his eyes and let out the breath he had been holding.

Laura saw the moment he accepted all the possibilities ahead. She smiled, knowing what would come next. He didn't disappoint her.

"Come here, Laura."

Laura didn't hesitate. She stood and walked directly into his arms, lifting her lips to meet his. The kiss started gentle and tentative, before becoming firm and free. They were both left breathless when their lips separated. Steele wrapped Laura in his arms, pulling her tight against him for several long moments.

"We should get some sleep. We have an early day tomorrow," she reminded him.

She felt him nod, where his chin lay on top of her head. Steele kissed the top of her head then released her, and walked to his room.

"Good night, Miss Holt," he told her, back still to her, knowing if he turned to face her, he would be compelled to cross the room and take her back in his arms.

"Good night, Mr. Steele," she answered in turn, then watched as he went into his room and shut his door.

* * *

Laura tossed and turned for the better part of an hour. She knew, intellectually, that her fears were unfounded. Yet, her heart had been badgering her since she had climbed into bed.

What if, like after they had caught Gault, she found he had simply disappeared again? What if, like in LA, she woke up and found he had left of his own will, and was not taken like after Gault. What if….

* * *

Steele lay in his bed, arms crossed against his chest, staring up at the ceiling. He could not shut off his brain. After he had allowed the thought of Westfield to enter it earlier, thoughts of Laura and the time she spent with Westfield would not leave his mind.

Could he live with it? Knowing that she had gone to Mexico with Westfield. Had likely given herself to the man? Could he live with the fact that she had ended three years of them trying to find their way to each other, for her to give herself to a man she had known for merely a day? What she had been too afraid to share with him, experience with him, for three years?

He had driven himself crazy for more than four months picturing the man kissing Laura, touching her, knowing how it felt to be a part of her. He ached at the thought of it.

Could he live with it?

His bleak thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door knob to the adjoining room jiggle. He turned his head to watch the door swing open, to see Laura silhouetted in the doorway. He pushed himself up on his elbows.

"Laura? Is everything okay?"

"I can't sleep."

He watched her for a moment. Even with the light from her room casting her in shadows, he could see how tense she was. She had clearly worried herself into a dither, and he suspected he knew the root cause of it.

"Afraid I won't be here tomorrow when it's time to leave, eh?"

He watched her body heave as she sighed.

"Not in my head."

"Ah," he acknowledged.

They were silent for several long moments, as he waited to see if she would say more, as she waited to see if he would offer what she needed. Once more, he didn't disappoint her.

"There's a simple way of knowing that I'll be here in the morning," he told her, lifting the bed covers in silent offering.

Laura walked across the room then climbed into the bed, sliding over next to Steele she tucked herself against him, around him. She sighed deeply and relaxed against him as one of his arms wrapped around her back, his arm coming to rest on her waist, while the other reached to take her hand in his. Lacing his fingers with hers he tucked both their arms up onto his chest.

"Thank you," she breathed against his chest.

Steele leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I needed this as much as you, Laura."

"Worried I'll change my mind about us? About you coming home?"

"Perhaps."

"I'm not going to change my mind, Mr. Steele," she assured him.

"And I'm not going anywhere, Laura," he promised her. "Get some sleep."

"You too."

He felt her lips lift against his chest in a smile, before she let out a gentle sigh and fell asleep in his arms.

Steele realized in that moment that he could live with whatever happened between Laura and Westfield if it was responsible for bringing her here, tonight, to sleep in his arms; if whatever had happened was responsible for bringing her here to London, to find him, to be with him. Pulling her a little tighter against his body, he fell asleep as well.


	2. Chapter 2

(Chapter Two)

Laura woke to the sound of the alarm. She was disoriented at first, staring at the wall in front of her, trying to remember where she was. When she felt Steele shift slightly next to her, she smiled, remembering instantly. She pushed herself up carefully, determined to let him to catch at least a few more minutes sleep before they had to rise and get ready to go to the airport. Turning off the alarm, she lay back down in his arms, savoring his closeness, relishing the fact that he was still there as he had promised he would be.

Laura adjusted herself a bit, so she could look up at his face. She loved to look at him first thing in the morning. It was, in fact, one of her favorite parts of the cases that led them to spend the night elsewhere. While she appreciated every aspect of Steele's buttoned down look, whenever he would pull out a pair of jeans and a simple shirt, looking at him would send shimmers of delight through her. But this? This was her favorite look of all: hair mussed, a layer of stubble across his face. It was simply him, without the trappings of clothes and accoutrements, and it appealed to her on an entirely different level. She found herself longing to feel those whiskers scraping softly against her sensitive skin, to run her hands through his hair to muss it even more.

She watched as his brow furrowed briefly in his sleep and as his lips moved, barely discernible. She wondered momentarily what he was dreaming about, as it appeared to be disturbing to him. She reached up and ran her hand along his jaw, trying to soothe it away. He flinched in his sleep, involuntarily, at the contact.

Laura leaned herself up on an elbow and looked again at the alarm clock. It was time to get moving if they were going to make their flight on time. It gave her ample excuse to rouse him from his dream. Placing her hand on his ribs, she gave him a gentle shake.

"Time to wake up," she told him brightly.

The only response she received was the tightening of his arm around her waist. Smiling, she gave him a firmer shake.

"Mr. Steele, it's time to wake up."

"Later," he mumbled, "more sleep."

Laura laughed. She'd had to wake him on many occasions over the years, and absent his instinctively sensing there was danger lurking nearby, he didn't leave sleep easily or willingly. She lifted her brows, considering. There was one way she hadn't attempted to wake him over the years, despite how often she'd wanted to do so. She decided in that moment to let a little of the old Laura out, to throw caution to the wind, to follow her feelings instead of logic.

Running her hand up his side and over his chest, Laura leaned down and pressed her lips against his own. She paused, inching her lips away from his, but feeling his arm tighten further against her back, touched her lips to his own again. This time, she felt Steele come very much alive below her, as his other arm wrapped around the back of her shoulders, pressing her body down on his own, while his lips began to move under hers.

Tilting her head back, she found bright blue eyes looking up at her. She smiled down at him, pleased that her actions had produced the effect she had been seeking.

"Good morning, Mr. Steele," she greeted him, while running her hand along his whiskered jaw.

"That it is, Miss Holt," he murmured, smiling back at her.

Laura watched as his eyes darkened, as his gaze moved to fall upon her lips; felt his hand leave the back of her shoulders and tangle in her hair. When his hand pressed gently on the back of her head, she allowed him to lower her head down, sighing when his lips found her own again. At first he sought only the connection of their lips, touching his against hers several times, before he slightly increased the pressure of the caress. Laura hands ran up into his hair of their own accord. Steele hummed his enjoyment at her touch, then bringing both arms up across her back, secured her shoulders in his hands before rolling her onto her back, and positioning himself over top of her.

Feeling the clear outline of his arousal against her pajama clad thigh, Laura stiffened beneath him. Steele let out a breath, and lifted his mouth away from hers to look down at her, a small smile on his mouth – half amusement, half acknowledgment that she was worried he wanted more at the moment that she was prepared to give. He moved his hand to either side of her face, his fingers feathering up and down over the skin of her cheeks, trying to soothe her. He waited until her eyes met his own before he spoke.

"Relax, Laura, relax," he prompted quietly, keeping his eyes joined with hers. "Our first time together will not be a quick shag as we prepare to rush off to the airport. We've waited far too long for it to be that," he assured her. "When we finally make love, we'll need hours, not mere minutes, for me to make you truly mine."

Laura's tension melted away at his words, then lifted her mouth back up to his, as one hand began exploring his side, while the other continued its forays in his hair. She felt the shimmer of delight that coursed through Steele's body, as she gave herself up to him. Steele's lips rubbed back and forth against her own before settling upon her lips more firmly. At the touch of his tongue on her upper lip, Laura opened her mouth to his, a sound of contentment reverberating from her throat has his tongue found, stroked hers. The feel of his course whiskers against the sensitive skin of her face, the gentle hunger of his kiss, and his fingers running through her hair were sheer bliss.

When his mouth left her own and trailed down her chin to her neck, Laura willingly arched it back, allowing him unfettered access.

"I've dreamt about this, you know, many times," she murmured, as his lips continued to explore.

Steele disengaged the kiss and looked down at her, pleased and perplexed simultaneously, the question clearly written on his face.

"Waking in your arms, your hair tousled," she told him, while rubbing her fingers through his hair, "unshaven, your lips on mine, on my neck, starting off my day beautifully."

He grinned at her, clearly pleased.

"Why Miss Holt, I believe you just made my day. Now," he suggested softly, "let's get back to making our morning, shall we?"

"If you insist, Mr. Steele," she answered, lifting her head towards his she ran her lips against his own.

Steele's hand ran up into her hair, and he quietly moaned as her tongue flicked against his lips. He opened his mouth to her, losing himself to the feel of her exploring him. Rarely, did Laura take this type of initiative. It was intoxicating, and his body reacted virulently to it. When her hands ran up his chest, and she moved to run her lips along his neck, he lost himself in the feeling. He groaned audibly when her lips moved across his shoulders, his chest heaving as his body flamed to life, demanding more.

At the knock on the door to her room, he levied himself up off of her, and climbed out of bed. Seldom was such an interruption met with less than an irritable frown, if not some choice thoughts, by him. But after Laura's assault on his senses, he welcomed the interruption as he already heard the call of a cold shower... a very cold shower. Reaching out, he took Laura's hands, and pulled her out of bed after him and into his arms. With a final kiss, he gave her a gentle shove towards her room.

"Go, find out who it is, then go get ready to leave. I'll do the same," he told her.

Laura walked through the adjoining door to her room and was about to close it when she heard Steele call out her name. Opening the door back wide, she poked her head in the doorway to look at him. The look of tenderness on his face touched her to the core.

"You're not the only one who's dreamt for years of waking together," he told her with quiet sincerity, as his molten eyes found and held her own. "The reality of us here this morning? It far exceeded any dream I've ever had."

Laura bit down on her lower lip briefly, as a surge of contentment combined with happiness filled her heart. After a wide smile broke out on her face, Steele found himself unable to do anything but grin at her in return. Her response to his words had absolutely delighted him.

"Mine too," she confessed. "Come to my room in thirty minutes and we'll get your wounds treated a final time before we get home.'

Steele nodded at her, and Laura returned to her room and shut the door.

* * *

Their flight departed Heathrow at 9:10 A.M. London time and landed at LAX at 10:57 A.M. The fourteen hour flight across multiple time zones meant the day had just begun in LA while in London it was in the wee hours of the next day already.

Mildred, sensing her kids were reconnecting on a deeper level than they ever had before, after four months of angst for both of them, made it a point to keep to herself on the flight. She alternated napping and reading a romance novel, content to glance across the aisle now and then, to see Laura and Steele contentedly wiling away their time together.

After enjoying a couple of in-flight movies together, they had worked a crossword puzzle, playfully squabbling over whose answer was correct. Eventually, the talk turned to business as Laura filled Steele in on the several cases she had completed in his absence. If she had learned nothing else in the debacle with the State Bureau of Investigative Licensing, it was that never again would Steele be left floundering for answers to cases of which he had no knowledge. She had expected him to be disgruntled, talking business rather than simply enjoying their flight together, but he had shocked her. Not only was he fully involved in the discussion, but he had asked several pertinent questions to assure he had a full understanding of the nuances. He, too, had realized that this house of cards Laura had built with her imagination could have come crumbling down around them the spring before. He insisted, in fact, that when they returned to work he was going to take the time to review all cases she and Murphy had worked on in the two years prior to his arrival at the agency.

Four hours before their scheduled arrival in LA, Steele suggested that they both try to get some sleep, pointing out that by the time they arrived they would have been up nearly 18 hours, after sleeping little the night before, at that. Further, since it would only be mid-morning when they arrived, there would be little chance they would make it to the evening hours sans nap. Laura agreed, and then shocked Steele for the second time that day by suggesting they lift up the armrest between them, and stretch out together. It took some maneuvering and much laughter between them, but eventually they figured out how to accomplish the task when Steele slung a pillow behind his head on top of the armrest next to the window, allowing him to lay on his back, while Laura wriggled her way between him and their seats, finally laying her head on his chest while slinging a thigh over his legs and an arm across his waist.

They slept contentedly for nearly three hours, with Steele waking before Laura. Left alone with his thoughts, he began to consider what he should expect when they arrived in LA. By the time Laura awoke he was fully brooding, not even noticing that she was avidly watching him. After more than three years with him, she could easily read him and recognized quickly that he was stressed taut, although his demeanor would never suggest so to anyone else.

"Nervous about going home?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Steele looked down at her clearly surprised that she was not only awake but had apparently been so for a while and assessing him without his notice.

"About going home with you? Not at all." he told her, smiling down at her.

"What's on your mind then?"

"Questions, I suppose. Questions I'm not sure I've the right to ask given how I … left," he answered, saying the last word with considerable hesitancy.

Laura mulled what he had said for several minutes, not wishing to push him, rubbing her hand up and down his arm as she did so. She searched her memory for anything that may have been left unsaid between them. It took her several minutes, but then the answer came to her in the form of a memory of a discussion they had had right after she'd found him injured and had brought him to the tenement house.

* * *

 _ **"What's the major stumbling block between us," Steele had asked Laura.**_

 _ **"Your aversion to legwork?"**_

 _ **"My name. My real name. I knew how you'd feel if I wouldn't give you that, when I couldn't be honest about...other things."**_

 _ **"I don't care what your name is. Make one up. It'll be alright with me."**_

 _ **"Perhaps. But when it seemed our time together had come to an end... I realized that Remington Steele was just another name I had borrowed. And if I was going to have to give it back, I should have to replace it with... Something that was truly mine."**_

* * *

Laura felt a fresh new well of guilt bubble up in the pit of her stomach, knowing intuitively what was on his mind. If he had believed his name nothing more than borrowed - and something that she would demand returned when she had severed their relationship at that - then he would view everything that was a part of his "role" of Remington Steele as borrowed as well. She now knew with absolute certainty that the night she had severed their personal relationship, in his eyes she had taken far more than her heart from him: she had taken their partnership, their friendship, and even his home.

"Your apartment is just as you left it," she told him quietly, while continuing to rub his arm. "The Auburn is parked in the garage at the Rossmore, where it's been since you left. Your checking account, credit cards, all still open. I spoke with Fred this morning, and he used the company card to stock your kitchen. It's all been waiting for you to come home."

Steele let out a shaky breath, and she felt him relax beneath her.

"How did you know?" he asked her softly.

"What you said in the tenement house... because I know you."

"Why did you keep them?" He wasn't sure why he had asked the question, but the answer was nonetheless very important to him.

Laura pushed herself up out of his arms, and waited as he sat up as well. She needed to be looking at him for this conversation, sensing how important it was to him.

"The easier answer is that I knew you would be coming home... even if it meant I had to fly six thousand miles and bring you home."

"And the harder answer?" he asked, his eyes boring into her own.

"They're not mine to take. I may have created the name Remington Steele, but you made it your own. You even have the passport to prove that. The apartment, the Auburn? They belong to you, not me. From the start you've made all the payments, you've covered the upkeep. Mildred made the payments out of your checking and saving accounts while you've been gone. How could you even wonder if they would be waiting for you when you came home?"

"I left," he pointed out.

"I knew you were coming home," she pointed out in turn.

Steele wondered for what had to be at least the thousandth time now how she didn't know that he loved her and why he did. The need to tell her how he felt about her was overwhelming. Yet he knew this was neither the time nor place, so he resisted. The time, the place, the moment would be right one day. But in the meantime, he could at least show her.

Reaching out, he took Laura's head in both of his hands and locking gazes with her, he pulled her gently to him. His lips found hers and he kissed her tenderly several times, before letting her go.

"What was that for?" she asked him, breathlessly.

"For being you."

She smiled at him, then glanced up when she heard the ding preceding the announcement that they were about to begin their descent into LAX.

"Looks like we're home, Mr. Steele," she commented, while raising her seat back into position and buckling her seat belt as he did the same.

"Indeed we are, Miss Holt, indeed we are," he agreed with a smile.

Steele reached for Laura's hand and held it, as he watched LA come into view on the horizon. He had missed the city, had missed his life here. Yet, he knew LA was not his home. Laura was.

* * *

Fred pulled the limo up in front of the Rossmore. Climbing out of the limo, Fred moved to the trunk to pull out Steele's bag, then discretely stayed by the back of the car in order to allow Miss Holt and he to say goodbye in private. Fred was not sure where the Boss had been these last months, but he remembered well the night he drove him to the airport. The man had looked like he had lost his best friend. As for Miss Holt? The few times she'd used the limo while the Boss was gone she'd looked like she hadn't slept in weeks. It had been good to see them both happy again.

Steele looked out the window at the Rossmore, then turned back to Laura again. Taking her hand in his, he gave it a squeeze.

"Come up with me, Laura? I'll whip us up something to eat, then take you home after."

He wasn't ready to let her go yet. He knew it was irrational, but being back here where she'd ended them made him feel like she was about to slip out of his life again. He needed to keep her close at least a little while longer. He fully expected her to say no, fully expected her to want to get home, unpack, to settle back in. He expected her to say anything other than what she did.

"Okay."

Just as simple as that. 'Okay.'

The truth was, Laura was no more prepared to let him go yet, than he was her. The rational side of her knew that he wasn't simply going to disappear again. But her heart was being anything but rational. The last time she had come to see him here, she'd found him gone. She hadn't known where he was, if he was safe for months. She needed a little while longer with him to settle her nerves.

Steele climbed out of the car and after helping Laura out, closed the door then walked to the back of the limo where Fred stood waiting.

"We'll be needing Miss Holt's bags as well, Fred. I'll be taking her home after we have a bite to eat."

Fred opened the trunk and pulled out Laura's bags. Laura grabbed her overnight bag and slung it over her shoulder, while Steele grabbed both of their suitcases.

"Are you ready, Miss Holt?"

"Lead the way, Mr. Steele."

Together they walked into the Rossmore to face the ghosts held inside.

* * *

"We can do salad and a consommé, or if you have time, I can pull together a full meal for us," Steele called to Laura in the living room.

"I'm starving," Laura said behind him.

Surprised, he spun around to face her.

"Sorry, didn't hear you come in."

"I figured that given the yelling," she said drily.

"Any preferences? Seems Fred bought out the store."

"Hmmmm," Laura said, pretending to think. "Duck."

"Did you have a particular form in mind?"

Laura's mind drifted back to the first day she had found him in his kitchen cooking. While weeks earlier he had prepared a meal for she, Murphy and a host of suspects and clients with the intent of getting a killer to confess across dinner, she had honestly believed he was prevaricating when he claimed to have cooked the meal. Figuring he was just trying to impress her, she's brushed off the lie and never gave it a second thought.

Then came the evening he'd invited her to dinner. She'd hesitated to accept at first, the logical side of her mind insisting that as long as he was playing the role of Steele they needed to keep the relationship business-like, despite the evident attraction that pulled them towards one another repeatedly. No, she'd corrected herself, because of that attraction it was imperative they have a clear understanding of their relationship. Yet, that morning when he'd extended the invitation for dinner, she had been unable to resist, rationalizing her acceptance by convincing herself that he was a grown man and she a grown woman, and therefore both were capable of enjoying one another's company while maintaining a purely professional relationship.

But, of course, a case interfered with their plans, and she'd come by the apartment early to concurrently cancel their dinner plans and fill Steele in on the case that demanded their immediate attention. He'd been nervous, very nervous, and her curiosity had been aroused as he had done everything possible, including stepping in front of her to block her path, to keep her out of the kitchen. She had been bemused when he'd even gone so far as to offer an apology for anything he might have done, although he'd not done a thing, in order to distract her.

* * *

 _ **"Does this sudden urge to repent have anything to do with the fact that your aftershave is burning?" she asks, pointing toward the kitchen doorway.**_

 _ **Steele's eyes widened, and sniffing the air he realized something was, indeed burning. He took off quickly for the kitchen.**_

 _ **"Oh, no, no!" he lamented as he turned down the heat under the sauce on the stove.**_

 _ **"You're- cooking!" she exclaimed, while standing frozen in place in the kitchen, stunned.**_

 _ **"Yes. So much for the element of surprise."**_

 _ **"You're cooking dinner. I never knew you cooked."**_

 _ **"I was counting on the shock to weaken your defenses."**_

 _ **"I just assumed that dinner meant some restaurant. I don't know what to say."**_

 _ **"Say 'yes' and let me make up the question."**_

 _ **"Oh, this is terrible."**_

 _ **"Actually, it's canard au vin rouge, and the least you might do is taste it before passing judgment."**_

 _ **"I only meant that you've gone to all this trouble, and I came here to cancel because something's come up and I have to fill you in-"**_

 _ **"Cancel? You don't cancel canard au vin rouge."**_

* * *

But canceled they had, and had gone off to work the case. It was at the conclusion of that case, she remembered, that they'd shared their second kiss. Surprising even herself, it had been she that had initiated it, unable to fight the need to feel his lips against hers again. He'd begun to weaken her defenses already. Throughout the case, her mind had kept wandering back to seeing him in the kitchen. He had looked scrumptious in his jeans and partially buttoned shirt, puttering around in the kitchen, stirring sauces, basting duck. He'd been clearly disappointed at the cancellation of the dinner plans, yet had thrown himself into the case, backing her up all the way. Each day she spent with him, pulled her in further. When she'd kissed him, she done so without regret and with great anticipation of how it would feel to have their lips meet once more. She had not been disappointed.

Steele had watched as Laura's mind had drifted away. He watched as a host of emotions flashed across her face, leaving her looking wistful and vulnerable.

"Laura," he called her gently, trying to pull her out of her reverie, "What form of duck is to your liking this evening?"

Laura looked up, still a bit lost in the memory, and gave him a small smile.

"I'm feeling sentimental," she answered, then feeling suddenly self-conscious found something of great interest on the counter, swiping her finger along it, not looking at him.

Laura's admission struck a chord deep within him as he realized she had been remembering the night she'd learned he could cook. Over the years he had often made duck the centerpiece of a romantic evening, almost to give homage to the moment their personal relationship had taken another step forward. So touched was he, that his fingers gently swept her heavy hair over her shoulder, then ran down the side of her neck, the action blatant in its tenderness.

"Canard au vin rouge it is, then," he told her softly. Then trying to lighten the mood for Laura's sake, clapped his hands and rubbed them together, and began pulling ingredients from the fridge, smiling broadly.

Laura hoisted herself up on the counter next to where Steele had begun to work, nicking a raw vegetable here and there while she filled him on newsworthy events that had occurred in LA during his absence. Steele would glance over at her often with a grin. He didn't know why but he found it charming how Laura was inclined to find a surface to perch on instead of using a nearby chair or stool, but he did. Perhaps, because wherever she landed herself just happened be the closest surface in the room to him, and he liked to think she wanted to be as close to him as possible, as he wanted to be to her.

When the duck was safely cooking in the oven, and the sauce simmering on the stove, Steele turned to the fridge and pulled out a selection of cheeses. After retrieving a plate from the cabinet, he returned to the cutting board and began slicing the cheese and arranging it on the plate. Taking a peek at Laura, he realized she had tuned out again but now instead of appearing lost in a pleasant memory, appeared troubled.

Laura had indeed become lost in her thoughts again. Watching him work in the kitchen, she had found herself wishing he were in jeans, a more relaxed shirt. She loved it when he dressed casually, when he would leave his hair without product for it to fall disobediently across his forehead, giving her an excuse to brush it away. He was still wearing the suit he wore on the plane, while she had changed into something less restraining as soon as they had come up to the apartment. She wondered why he had not changed, wished he would, then the reason why occurred to her. Which inevitably led to her ruminating on what he had done with all his clothes when he left, which led to the fact he'd left, and how she'd felt when she found the closets empty...

"Where are your clothes?" she blurted out the question without plan, surprising them both.

Steele set down the cheese knife, and looked at her for a moment. _Ah, so that's what she's been chewing on,_ he thought to himself. For his part, he'd been so caught up in the fact that she'd agreed to spend the afternoon with him instead of racing off to the loft that he'd not even thought about having his clothes brought round to him.

Wiping his hands on a dish towel, he tossed the towel back on the counter then walked across the room to the phone. Picking up the receiver, he dialed in a series of numbers. After a brief conversation with the person on the other side of the line, he hung up and then returned to where Laura sat on the counter. Picking up the cheese knife again, he went back to work.

"They'll be here within the hour," he told her, glancing sideways at her, to see her reaction.

Instead of the relief he had been anticipating, he watched as Laura began to rub at her brow as she turned away from him to look at a spot on the wall across the kitchen. Setting the knife back down again, Steele moved to stand between her legs, and taking her hand in his, clasped it within his grasp comfortingly. He waited patiently, but when it became clear she would not, maybe could not, engage on her own, he reached up and placing his fingers under her chin, gently turned her head until she looked at him.

"Talk to me Laura. What is it?" he implored.

Laura made eye contact with him, then looked away again and sighed. She felt foolish. He was here with her, and that should be all that mattered. She knew she should be happy, content even. Yet all she could focus on was the fact that he had made no attempt to bring his belongings home. Was he here to stay? Would he be gone again the next time she turned around? If he was back here, with her, committed to them, why wasn't he anxious to restore his home to what it was before he'd left? The questions just kept coming and with each one, her fear that he would leave again increased exponentially.

"Laura, what is it?" he asked again.

Laura let out a deep breath, then turned back to him.

"It's nothing, probably just jetlagged," she answered. _Well, it's not exactly a lie_ , she justified to herself, _I am jetlagged._

"Back there again already, are we, Laura?" he asked, shaking his head despondently he dropped her hand and shoving his hands into his pockets he backed up until he leaned against the counter opposite of her.

"Back where?" she questioned, puzzled by the hurt she saw in his eyes, by the sudden distance he had placed between them and by the question itself.

"Back to you closing yourself off from me, pushing me away."

"I'm not…" she began, only for him to cut her off.

"You are, you are," he accused quietly. "Look at you. Clearly something is bothering you, but rather than share it with me, let us try to work through whatever it is, you prevaricate."

"I'm not lying," she retorted, her defenses rising. "I _am_ jetlagged."

"Undoubtedly you are, but it does not account for the dispirited sighs, your dolorous mood. Something is weighing on you, but rather than share it with me, you choose to deny it. Why, if not that you are putting distance between us once more?"

"I don't want to fight," Laura said, dejectedly.

"Is that what we're doing?"

"Isn't it what we're about to do?"

"I suppose that's up to you."

Laura started at Steele. She had meant what she said, she didn't want to fight. Yet, old habits die hard. For years now, when his actions had hurt her, inadvertently or not, she invariably picked a fight with him. It was so much …. safer…. to be angry rather than hurt. The former brought a rush of adrenaline, whose aftermath would guarantee to settle her nerves, while the latter left her raw, vulnerable. But at what cost was the fighting? Nearly always she wounded him in the process, nearly always it placed yet another wall between them that had to be scaled. She was bone weary of the walls and wanted nothing more than to recapture how comfortable, how happy they had been across the last day.

 _And it took communication, honesty, despite the risks of both, to get us there_ , she reminded herself.

Having made up her mind, Laura sat up a little straighter, and looked Steele boldly in the eyes.

"I don't' want to fight. I want to know why," she told him, her voice soft but strong.

"Why what?" he asked, his voice intentionally neutral, knowing that approaching her in any other way would lead her to slam the door once more.

"When you left, you took everything that mattered to you." It was a statement, not a question.

"I packed what truly belonged to me," he corrected.

At those words, Laura's eye lifted and met Steele's gaze directly. The hurt he saw in those amber eyes he adored, cut through him like a knife. Taking his hands out of his pocket, he strode back over to stand in front of her, taking her hand in his once more, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You didn't think you were coming back. You packed everything and took it away, because you didn't think you were coming back. It's the only logical explanation."

"I didn't know how long it would be until I came back," he corrected her again. "I had no idea how long it would take me to find what I needed to find."

Dropping her hand, he braced both arms against the counter on either side of Laura's legs, maintaining eye contact all the while. Bending forward, he laid his forehead against her own.

"I was always coming back, Laura... for you. It's why I stored everything here in LA. It's why I only took what was needed with me. I was always coming back for you, Laura. Believe that," he whispered.

Laura took a deep breath and let it out, as a little fissure in her heart healed. Wrapping her arms around his back, she laid her head on his chest. Steele let go of the counter and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, laying his chin on top of her head. Rubbing his cheek against her head, Steele moved back then bending down, captured Laura's lips in a heartfelt kiss, before he pulled her close to him once more. They remained in one another's embrace for a long time, until Laura finally broke the spell that had weaved around them.

"I'm starving," she told him.

Steele pulled back and looked at her, clearly amused, then laughed.

"Yes, well, let's see what we can do about that as we await the duck."

After helping Laura down from the counter, he grabbed the bottle of wine that he had left open on the counter to breathe, then pulled two wine glasses from the rack, before picking up the plate of cheeses he had prepared.

"Shall we adjourn to the living room?" he suggested.

At Laura's nod of approval, they moved into the living room, where she sat herself in the center of the sofa and waited for him to join her. She found herself surprised when he placed the food and wine on the table then sat in the far right corner of the sofa. In all the years that they had spent time together here, she could count on one hand - no one finger - the number of times he had sat there. Always, he sat on the left side, which would allow them to eventually to stretch out on the couch together while they watched a movie or the news. Shrugging the oddity off, she accepted the glass of wine he offered her.

She waited for Steele to settle himself in the corner of the sofa and stretch out his legs to prop them on the coffee table before she scooted over to sit next to him, her side pressed against his own. When his arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her more snugly against him, she reclined her head to lean against his shoulder.

"So where did you store everything?" she asked out of curiosity.

Laura leaned forward and grabbed the plate of cheese before returning to his side and setting the plate on his lap. Steele looked down at the plate, then back at her with a quirked brow.

"I'm hungry," she offered simply, then smiled at him. Picking up a piece of cheese, she took a bite of it before repeating her question to him.

"At an old friend's."

"Which old friend?"

"Monroe."

At Steele's answer, Laura repositioned herself on the couch, putting space between the two of them so that she could look at him. Moving the plate to the empty spot on the couch between them, she picked up a piece of cheese and offered it to him, earning her another quirk of his brow.

"Don't mind if I do," he told her, his eyes on hers as he leaned forward. He was somewhat shocked when Laura fed him the piece of cheese, yet something else that she'd seldom done in the past. He smiled at her as contentment seeped through his bones with the realization Laura was so much more relaxed and free with him than she'd ever been before.

"So, who is Monroe?"

Steele was instantly on edge. When people from his past showed up in his life, Laura had historically responded very poorly. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her, especially given his realization only moments before. He glanced at her, considering changing the subject, but seeing her look of expectancy, simply sighed and offered her the truth.

"An old friend. We used to run together in the Caribbean," he told her, tugging at his ear. "He's retired from the life now, trodding the straight and narrow. He arrived in LA last year with a business proposal involving starting a chain of wholesale electronic stores. I, uh, invested in his proposal."

"So, will he be the one bringing your things back this afternoon?"

Steele turned his head towards her, clearly stunned by the lack of her predicted annoyance with the information he shared. Laura had seen his reaction when she had asked the question, his indecision about answering her honestly and the tug of his ear while he answered. He had chosen to answer her honestly, and it meant the world to her. She simply smiled at him, as he continued to stare.

"Uh... Laura … not to press my luck, but you're taking this inordinately well..." he commented hesitantly.

"You answered me honestly, right?"

He nodded, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"He's retired from the life, right?"

Another nod.

"He's not going to drag you into any schemes then, right?"

A shake of his head, still wary.

"Then why should I get upset? We both know you have a past and there's nothing that can be done to change that. The only thing I care about is that it doesn't come back and turn our lives upside down or attempt to drag you back in."

Steele felt the relief flood through him. Monroe represented no threat in either regard, so all was well.

Laura watched as his body relaxed in response to what she had said. Sitting the half-empty plate of cheese back on the table, she picked up her wine and after straightening back up she nudged him to lean back against the couch again. Once he had settled himself once more, she returned to his side, and smiled as his arm wrapped back around her.

"So, will I get to meet him this afternoon?"

"Mmmm," he answered wordlessly in the affirmative while glancing at his watch. "I suspect he'll be here in the next half hour or so."

Laura took another drink of her wine, then sat the glass on the table. Turning slightly in his arms, she tucked her legs up under herself, before snuggling in a little closer to Steele's side and running a hand across his chest. She felt his chest muscles jump under contact with her fingers, making her smile. She tilted her head up and found him looking down at her, prompting her to run her hand along his jawline.

"Any ideas, Mr. Steele, on how we can pass time until he gets here?"

 _Seems she is destined to shock me today,_ Steele thought to himself. _First that kiss this morning, then agreeing to stay when I thought she'd surely want to go straight home, then the kitchen, her acceptance of Monroe, now this._

"Are you … uh... suggesting what I think you are, Miss Holt?" he asked, looking questioningly at her.

"I guess that depends on what you are thinking I'm suggesting, Mr. Steele," she told him, laughing low in her throat, enjoying that she had clearly thrown him off balance again.

Laura smiled to herself again as she felt him squirm slightly underneath her side and hand.

"Are you suggesting that we...um... neck?"

"I _suppose_..." Laura answered, drawing out the last word, pretending playfully to feign reluctance, "I could be swayed... with the right incentive that is."

"Oh, you could now, could you?" he teased, shifting more to his side and tugging her closer to him.

"I think it's very possible," she agreed, moving to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Well, then, let's see what we can do about convincing you, eh?" He murmured as he lowered his lips to hers.

In short order, Steele's lips had Laura humming with pleasure. Wrapping her hand into his hair, she pushed against the back of his head, to force his lips more firmly against her own. In response to her hint, he ran the tip of his tongue against Laura's lips, and found her opening to him without hesitation. He groaned when her tongue immediately sought out his own and tangled with it. His hands reached out and grabbing her gently under her arms, lifted her over him to sit on his lap, carefully positioning her where she would not come into contact with his growing arousal. Laura moved onto his lap willingly, and sighed vocally when his lips left her own and moved to her neck.

A knock at the door was met from groans of disappointment from both of them. He watched as Laura quickly scurried off of him, smoothing down her hair and clothes as she sat back in her original spot. Reaching out, he laced his fingers behind her neck and pulled him to him for one last, quick kiss, before he stood to go answer the door.

Monroe stood outside the door with two other men, holding nearly a dozen garment bags between them all. Steele ushered them in, and pointed them to his bedroom, giving instructions to just lay everything on the bed and he would take care of the rest. As the two men that had accompanied Monroe headed back downstairs to retrieve more of Steele's belongings, Laura stood and walked to stand next to Steele.

"Monroe," Steele introduced, "Laura. Laura, Monroe."

Monroe took Laura's hand in his and bowing slightly, kissed the back of it.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Laura. I've heard a lot about you over the last year from Mick here," he told her, smiling warmly at her.

Laura glanced at Steele quickly, then returned her eyes to Monroe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well. Mr. Steele tells me the two of you knew each other during your days in the Caribbean?"

It was Monroe's turn to glance at Steele, curious as to the way Laura addressed Mick. Steele, had moved to stand behind Laura, his hand on her waist, during the introductions. Pursing his lips at Monroe, he shook his head no, letting the other man know they would speak about it later. Monroe acknowledged the communication with a slight nod of his head, unnoticed by Laura.

"Indeed we did," Monroe acknowledged, as he followed Laura into the living room, taking a chair across from her, as she settled on the sofa.

Laura gave Steele a cat-ate-the-canary look as he sat down next to her, then turned back to Monroe.

"So, how did the two of you meet?" Laura asked him, mischievously, then watched as Monroe's eyes darted towards Steele, seeking an indication on what to tell Laura.

Steele laughed loudly as he settled into the sofa and kicked up his feet on the edge of the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. Laura had caught the look that passed from Monroe to him a minute ago and was letting them both know it, he knew.

"She knows, Monroe," he said letting the other man off the hook.

"Mick and I did a little work in shipping with one another," he told her diplomatically.

"Smuggling you mean," Laura corrected with a smile.

Monroe looked stunned, and glanced again at Steele while Laura laughed.

"I've told you Laura is well aware of my past. Once you mentioned shipping, it was a logical conclusion," Steele shrugged towards the other man.

"So, what was your specialty?" Laura asked Monroe.

"Nothing illegal, I assure you," he answered genially, then was set off balance again by her raised brow.

Steele laughed again, enjoying watching Laura play cat-and-mouse with someone other than himself for a change.

"No guns, no drugs. Neither of us would be involved in such distasteful matters. Arts, antiquities for the most part," Monroe told Laura, then paused for a moment. "I am beginning to understand why Mick here seems so out of sorts at times."

"Does he?" Laura asked, leaning forward with a great deal of interest.

"Most certainly. I've never seen a woman put Mick off his game before."

"So Mick, uh, dated frequently then while the two of you worked with one another?" she asked, curiosity peaked, wondering how many more women would creep in out of the past. Certainly, Anna and Felicia had been more than enough to set them, personally, off course.

Watching the look on Laura's face, seeing her body language in response to the topic of the women in his life, Steele quickly decided a change of conversation was in line.

"Uh, Laura," he interrupted, trying to throw her off course, "While I am sure Monroe would be delighted to have this conversation," he took a moment to give Monroe a light scowl, "I'm quite sure he has a busy afternoon planned. We wouldn't want to detain him, now would we?"

Now it was Monroe's turn to laugh, enjoying watching Steele thrown off-balance as much as the other man had he.

"Actually, I am footloose and fancy free today," Monroe contradicted, with a smile, drawing another laugh from Laura and a grunt of annoyance from Steele.

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" Laura invited with a smile. "I'd love to hear some stories of your time together, and I suspect there are plenty."

"It would be my pleasure," Monroe told her, returning her smile while adeptly ignoring another glare from Steele.

Steele watched as the remainder of his belongings were brought in and placed at the foot of his bed, giving him inspiration on how to separate Laura and Monroe for long enough to make her forget her current train of thought...he hoped. While Monroe paid his two workers and showed them to the door, Steele leaned over towards Laura.

"I'd like to get all my clothing put up before it wrinkles. Would you mind giving me a hand?"

"No, not at all. What about our guest?"

"I'm sure he'll find a way to occupy himself. We shouldn't be too terribly long."

"Alright," Laura agreed, and stood up as Monroe returned to sit down.

Standing, Steele handed Monroe the remote.

"Laura and I are just going to unpack my things. Shouldn't be long. Feel free to watch whatever you like," he told Monroe as he watched Laura walk towards his room whilst Monroe grinned widely, knowing Steele was intentionally separating the two. Once Laura was out of earshot, he warned Monroe with a pat on the shoulder, "Remember, mate, paybacks are hell."

Monroe laughed aloud at the threat. Then turned to flip on the TV while Steele went to join Laura in his room.

Unpacking moved along smoothly, as they kept up a steady stream of conversation about what went where. About midway through the process, Steele took note, worriedly, of Laura's increased tension which was coupled by shorter and shorter responses to his questions and comments. By the time unpacking was complete his worry had escalated to outright concern as he watched her turn away from him and into herself for the second time that evening. He was suddenly grateful that Monroe was staying for dinner, and no longer cared a whit about what stories the other man shared with her, as long as it would put a smile back on her face.

When Laura excused herself to rejoin Monroe, far too politely for his taste, he decided to hang back for a moment, hoping that she would slide back into friendly conversation with the other man and relax again. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a casual button down from his closet, he went into his bathroom to change, skipping his afternoon shave in remembrance of Laura's words that morning.

Reentering the living room, he found Monroe telling Laura about the time he and Monroe had been roughed up by a band of competing smugglers. Laura was entranced in the story, only stopping Monroe when she asked a question about something he had said. He relaxed as he saw her tension had begun to drain away, and decided to go check on the progress of their early dinner, leaving Monroe and Laura to speak freely.

With the duck nearly done, Steele set to work on tossing together a salad, while simultaneously sautéing the vegetables that would accompany the duck. He uncorked a fresh bottle of wine, leaving it to breathe on the counter, smiling as he heard Laura laughing once more from the living room. He had just pulled the main course from the oven, when Laura joined him in the kitchen.

"Can I set the table?" she offered, as she nicked a carrot off the chopping board and put it in her mouth.

At Steele's nod and a smile, she walked over to the cabinet and began taking down the plates they would need when she felt his arm slide around her waist from behind. Laura leaned back into his body, laying her head on his shoulder, as her hand ran over his arm at her waist, rubbing softly before resting her hand on top of his own. Leaning down, he nuzzled her neck for a moment, leading Laura to give a small gasp of pleasure as his whiskered cheeks gently rubbed against her neck. Turning her head towards him, their lips met in a long, tender kiss, as Steele's fingers began stroking the side of her neck softly.

Monroe, who had followed shortly behind Laura to offer his assistance, stood still in the doorway watching the couple. Not one prone to voyeuristic behavior, he had stilled, unconsciously, while trying to marry together the Mick he knew around women, with what he was seeing now. In the time he had spent with Mick, the man had only turned on the charm for a long as it took to seduce a young woman into bed. The man standing before him now was the antithesis of the old Mick. His friend was clearly in deep, and Monroe was left wondering if he even knew how deep. He made a note to himself to bring it up the next time the two were alone together, then discretely stepped back away and returned to the living room.

When the kiss ended, Steele pressed his lips briefly against Laura's neck, before setting her away from him. They worked efficiently in companionable silence, and within ten minutes dinner was set on the table. Dinner was a lighthearted affair, with Monroe regaling Laura with many of his and Steele's exploits, not to mention stories of the veritable stable of women Steele had gone through in their time together. Throughout the meal, Monroe took note of the stolen glances between his friend and the woman sitting next to him, taking particular interest in the number of times he saw Steele's hand reach out to brush against Laura's.

While observant by nature, Monroe failed to take note of Laura's mounting insecurity as he related stories of one voluptuous woman after another Steele had tempted into his bed. To his defense, Laura had laughed frequently during these stories, and asked many questions, giving every indication she was enjoying them and no indication they were disturbing her. Steele, however, had noticed, and had reached over to pick up Laura's hand from where it lay near him on the table, and held it between his own, giving it a gentle squeeze from time-to-time. When Monroe finally noticed the fire shooting from Steele's eyes and directed at himself, he realized his gaffe and tried to make amends.

"I must say it is nice to see that Mick has become more discerning over the years."

"How do you mean?" she asked politely, adroitly hiding her discomfort.

"Not a single one of those women could hold a candle to you," he told her in all sincerity. "I find myself vexed that he met you before I. It is a fortunate man to find a woman with the combined attributes of beauty, grace and intelligence. Mick's a lucky man to have found you."

"That I am," Steele agreed, squeezing her hand again, a smiling lighting his face as Laura flushed with pleasure.

"Now, may I help you clean up after this splendid meal, Mick?" Monroe offered.

"Absolutely not," Laura answered for Steele. "You're our guest. We'll take care of everything."

"Then, it is time for me to take my leave. I have stacks of paperwork waiting for me at home, that I must attend to. Laura," he told her, taking her hand and pressing his lips to the back of it once more, "It was truly a pleasure to meet you. Should you come to your senses and rid yourself of my motley friend, please look me up."

Steele glared at him, causing both Laura and Monroe to laugh.

"I'll see you out," Steele told him, then walked with Monroe to the door.

At the front door, Steele held out his hand to his friend, and shook the one offered in return.

"Thank you, again, for holding my belongings while I was gone."

"That is what friends are for. I do believe you have helped me as well in the past, have you not?"

"That I have," Steele grinned.

"You and I will be speaking soon," Monroe told him, giving a meaningful glance towards the dining room where Laura was clearing the dishes, before turning and opening the front door.

"Soon," Steele agreed.

Shutting and locking the door behind Monroe, Steele joined Laura in the dining room to help clear. Once the dishes were cleaned, dried and put away and the kitchen wiped down, they adjourned back into the living room.

"Do you want me to take you home, or do you want to stay and perhaps watch a movie?"

"I don't want to go home," she answered.

"Movie it is then," he smiled at her.

Picking up the remote, he began to sit in his normal spot, then stood and moved to stretch out once more on the right side of the sofa. Seeing this, Laura sighed, catching Steele's attention.

"Tired, Laura?"

"Yes, but not in the way you mean."

"I'm tired of this..." She waived her hand in the direction of the left hand side of the couch, "and that," now waving her hand in the direction of the bedroom, becoming more agitated as she continued on, "Of the damned ghosts in this apartment that are haunting us both."

Steele watched as she began to pace, confused by what had her suddenly upset, not understanding what she was trying to tell him.

"Laura, what's the matter?"

She spun on her heel to face him.

"Why won't you sit on the couch where you always have?" she demanded to know, again pointing towards the left hand side.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he hedged, knowing full well what she meant.

"Don't lie to me, Mr. Steele," she told him, her voice tight.

Steele leaned forward and ran his hands across his face.

 _Why can't the woman, just for once, leave something alon_ e, he asked himself.

He knew Laura would not let this go until they dealt with it directly. Sighing deeply, he answered her.

"You know why, Laura."

"Then say it," she demanded, her frustration reaching all new levels when he looked away from her. "Say it!"

Although it was rare for Steele to lose his temper with her, her constant pricking at the wound he had been trying to conceal, pushed him over the edge.

Shoving himself off of the couch, he began to pace himself, before turning to face her.

"You know why!" he yelled at her. "Because that's where I was bloody well sitting when you blindsided me, ripping the rug out from my sodding feet, ending us once more!"

Dropping into a nearby chair, he leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he turned to look at her.

"I'm sorry Laura. I didn't mean to yell," he apologized.

Laura sat down on the couch across from him.

"I know, but that's what I mean by ghosts. It was one thing to come to terms with the harm we've done one another while we were in London, but coming back here, to where it all happened? It's quite another. We need to deal with it, before it comes between us."

"How do we do that? We've already discussed it, we know the issues we put to bed. How will talking about it further change anything?"

"Time. You need time to believe I'm not going end us again because I'm afraid. I need time to believe that you won't be gone in the morning."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, imitating Steele from earlier, she decided that, for them, she needed to be honest about what she needed; what she believed they both needed.

"I need to stay here this weekend," she told him, then seeing his head shoot up and the look of shock on his face, she qualified what she meant. "I don't mean sex. This is definitely not the right time for either of us, not when we're reacting to what happened here."

"I agree. We've earned the right for the first time together to be about us, what we know is between us and not because we are trying to dull our memories of what happened here," he told her, realizing, like she, that if they were going to get past this, honesty was the only way.

"I need to wake up, here, in this apartment and to find you still here, while you need time with me to realize I am not going to suddenly end things between us again because I'm afraid. We need to face our ghosts, Mr. Steele. What do you think?"

He nodded somberly at her in agreement. Then, typical of him, got up abruptly and walked out of the room towards the kitchen. Laura was stunned momentarily by his abrupt departure, then decided to wait him out and see what it was exactly that he clearly had on his mind.

Steele returned from the kitchen in short order with the remainder of the wine from dinner and two glasses. Setting everything on the coffee table, he walked over to the thermostat and cranked it down, before moving to the terrace doors and swinging them open. After lighting a fire, he returned to the couch, filled the wine glasses, handing her one, then sat down in what Laura always thought of as his spot.

"No time like the present to start ridding this place of the ghosts, eh?" he asked, smiling at her.

Laura smiled back at him, then grabbing the remote from the coffee table, handled it to him, before moving over and settling down next to him.

"A movie, Mr. Steele?"

"A movie, Miss Holt," he agreed, smiling at her.

Flipping through the channels, he found an airing of _How to Steal a Million_ (Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole, World Wide Productions, 1966) and they settled in to watch.

An hour into the movie, Steele looked over and saw Laura was nodding off. He reached over and patted her on the hand. Her head snapped up and she looked at him through sleep dazed eyes.

"You're falling asleep," he pointed out. "Why don't you go get changed and crawl into my bed and get some sleep?"

Laura shook her head.

"I want to stay here with you here a while longer," she insisted.

"Then at least stretch out on the couch. Last thing we need is you falling asleep and pitching off the couch into the coffee table," he laughed.

She pondered his suggestion for a moment then made one of her own.

"Lay with me?"

Yet again, she surprised him. It was always he that suggested they lay together to watch a movie. It had taken him for what seemed like forever when they first became involved three years before for her to believe he wasn't going to try to maneuver her into bed whenever they were in the prone position. Sweeping back a tendril of hair from her face, he nodded at her.

Laura stood up and waited for him to stretch out across the length of the couch. He paused in his movement, realizing it was more complicated than it seemed when the decision was made to lay down together instead of it happening naturally over the course of the night.

"Back or side?" he asked her.

Laura thought it over for a moment.

"Back, definitely back," she decided.

Steele adjusted himself, moving closer to the edge of the sofa then lying on his back. Laura crawled across him to lay on her side between the back of the couch and his body, then finally got herself comfortable, laying her head on his chest, while throwing her arm across his waist and propping her thigh on top of his legs. She sighed deeply as she relaxed against him, then nuzzled his chest with her cheek as he wrapped his arm around her.

Tilting her head up, she looked at him and smiled.

"This has always been one of my favorite parts of our time together," she confessed.

"Oh?" he asked, smiling down at her. "Here I've thought it was dodging bullets, running from crooked cops, and diving out of burning buildings on mattresses."

Laura laughed, delightedly, the tinkle of her laughter running straight through Steele's bloodstream and into his heart.

 _This has always been my favorite part_ , he thought to himself, _her lying in my arms, laughing, happy_.

"Okay," she relented playfully, "I guess that ties for first with moments like this."

"For first? Come now, Miss Holt, surely not for first. You seem to be forgetting something."

"Oh, what am I forgetting?"

"Dancing together to start with. I was rather certain it would rank higher than dodging bullets?"

"Hmmm," she pretended to ponder. "No, I would have to say dancing is number three on the list."

"Then I bet I know what number two is..."

"Definitely the romantic dinners you create for us."

"I do believe you are forgetting something important."

"No, I don't think I am. Maybe I need a reminder of what it is I'm forgetting."

Steele reached out and swept Laura's hair back over her shoulder, then ran the back of his fingers down her neck.

"A reminder, eh?" He asked, his eyes darkening with desire.

"A reminder," she confirmed.

"A reminder...a reminder," he whispered, lowering his head then sweeping her lips up under his.

The kiss started light, but he gradually increased both pressure and intensity as she responded fully to him. Laura hummed in pleasure when he gently nipped at her lower lip and shifted in his arms to get closer to him. Steele ran his lips along her jaw line, before returning to claim her lips again. The kiss started softly, but grew quickly in fervor when Laura ran her hand inside his collar and across his bare shoulder.

Steele slid further down on the couch, then turned on his side so he and Laura were facing one another. Leaning over, he nuzzled her neck before running his mouth down it, nipping at it tenderly and suckling gently. He stilled when he felt Laura's hands unbuttoning his shirt. His hands reached down and caught hers before she could progress any further.

"I believe, Miss Holt, we both agreed on the roadblock before us this weekend. I think that is enough temptation, for both of us, for now," he told her on a ragged breath.

Kissing her one last time, he returned to his back and pulled her down to his side, wrapping an arm around her waist, then laughed when she growled in frustration.

They settled back in to continue watching the movie. As Steele ran his hand up and down the arm Laura had stretched across his chest, he felt her growing heavier against his side.

"Fifth, definitely fifth," she mumbled.

"Hmmm," he questioned wordlessly, wrapped up in the movie.

"Kissing is definitely fifth," she said a little more clearly.

Steele turned his head then looked down at her and laughed.

"Fifth?!" he exclaimed. "However do you get that?"

"Penalty points for incompletion," she smiled up at him, earning another laugh.

"Dare I ask what's in fourth?"

"Verbal sparring."

"Wait just a minute! You're telling me that you find our arguing more enjoyable our tete-a-tetes?"

"Well you're very good at it."

"Only because I have a worthy opponent," he pointed out.

They fell silent for a moment as Laura began to drift off.

"I rather thought I was fairly more than good at kissing you," he grumbled.

"I have to give you something to aspire to."

"Practice makes perfect, eh?"

"I guess you'll have to do more homework to improve your grade," she agreed.

"I will now, will I? Well, I suppose I can endure as long as it's for a good cause."

"Don't worry, Mr. Steele, I have faith in your ability to rise to the occasion."

"Well, then, I certainly look forward to the challenge."

"So do I, Mr. Steele, so do I."

Steele leaned down and kissed the top of Laura's head, then wrapped his arm a little more snugly around her as she dozed off.

* * *

Steele woke to the sound of the local news playing on the television. Glancing at his watch, he realized Laura had been sleeping for a little over two hours, although he could not estimate how long he himself had been sleeping. Extricating himself from under her, he stood then bent back over her, giving her a gentle shake.

Laura opened her eyes and stared bleary eyed at him, as jet lag had her fully in its grasp.

"Where'd you go?" she mumbled.

"I've been right here straight along, must've dozed off myself," he answered, while leaning over to take her hand in his. "Let's get you up so you can go get ready for bed. You can take my bed, I'll take the couch."

"Alright," she agreed sleepily, allowing him to pull her up from the sofa.

Steele waited until she was steady on her feet, then walked with her to his bedroom.

"Your suitcase is over on the chair, there," he pointed it out to her, "and your overnight bag is in the bathroom. I'll get ready after you're done."

"We need to treat your wound," she remembered.

"It can wait 'til morning. I don't want either of us in our current state pointing a pair of scissors towards my stomach," he commented drily.

"Okay," she agreed readily. "But first thing in the morning."

"First thing," he agreed. "Now, go get ready for bed Miss Holt, before you fall back to sleep whilst standing."

Laura nodded and he watched as she rummaged through her luggage, fishing out a pair of pajamas, then stumbled towards the bathroom. Once she had closed the door, he went to the closet and pulled down the spare sheet, blanket and pillow kept there for guests, then took his load out to the living room and placed it on the couch. Picking up the wine bottle and their glasses from the table, he threw away the bottle in the kitchen, then washed the glasses, leaving them in the drainer to air dry overnight. Back in the living room, he extinguished the fire, and shut and locked the patio doors.

Peeking in the bedroom, he saw Laura had already snuggled up under the covers in his bed. He crept quietly over to his dresser to pull out a pair of pajamas so as not to disturb her, before heading into the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed himself.

Laura stared at the closet doors in front of her, as her memories of coming here four months ago replayed through her head over and over. Those very closets completely bare, him gone, her alone. Her memories moved to earlier in the evening that fateful night four months ago, now seeing the look on his face as she tore them apart, remembering she had chosen to hurt him - again - rather than face her own fears. Flipping over in the bed, she turned her back on the closets.

 _Out of sight, out of mind, that's what they say_ , she reminded herself.

Only the dresser she now faced held its own ghosts, as she recalled opening each drawer that evening and finding all empty. He was gone and she was alone. She had thought when she came home and found Wilson gone that there was nothing that could ever hurt as badly. She had been wrong. She and Wilson had been lovers, roommates and sometimes friends. She had loved him. But he had never been to her what Steele had become to her across the years: Partner, confidante, closest friend, whatever it was they both refused to put a label on and the man she loved. Wilson walking out on her was a cakewalk compared to the loss of Steele.

At the sound of the bathroom door opening, Laura rolled back over in the bed silently watching as he walked towards her, then leaned over the bed to kiss her on the forehead.

"Good night, Miss Holt," he told her quietly, then straightened back up to leave.

Without thought, Laura lifted the comforter and sheet, a silent invitation, a silent request. Steele could not deny her, or himself, both of them needing and wanting the comfort and peace they had found sleeping in one another's arms the night before. Laura moved aside as he slid into the bed, and watched as he stretched out on his back. When he at last settled and held his arm open to her, she immediately melded herself into his side, lying her head on his chest and wrapping her arm across his abdomen. By the time he held her securely in his embrace, her hand was already whispering up and down against his side.

Her hand stilled after a couple of minutes and he thought she'd fallen asleep until he felt her lips next to his ear.

"Lose the shirt," she whispered, her breath caressing his ear as she spoke.

Another request, another temptation, yet another thing he could not refuse her. He knew instinctively that she was craving, as much as he, the skin-to-skin contact they had shared during their time in London. Laura sat up to allow him room to move, and as soon as he lie prone again she returned to nestle against him, sighing in contentment as her cheek rested upon his bare chest. As her hand resumed stroking across his ribs, Steele took advantage of the skin left bare by the camisole top of her pajamas, running his hand soothingly up and down the length of her arm.

"This could be dangerous," she spoke in a hushed tone unwilling to break the tranquility of the moment.

"I assure you, I've no intention of trying to sway you from our agreement, no matter how much I would like," he answered her in a quiet tone that matched her own.

"That's not what I mean."

"Oh?"

"This. Us. Holding one another, simply enjoying being with each other as we fall asleep. I could get used to it too easily."

"It's my fondest hope that you do. I can think of little else I want more than to fall asleep with you in my arms every night."

"I find myself almost believing you."

"Start believing, Laura, because this? You here with me? I've wanted this for longer than I can remember."

"Me too."

"Then trust in that. Trust in what we are meant to be to one another."

"It's frightening."

"What is?"

"Being so comfortable, here, with you. To want it so much. To be so..."

"Happy when we're together?'

"Yes."

"Because it might all go away?"

Laura sighed softly against his chest. _He knows me so well_ , she thought to herself.

"Yes."

"It's not going away unless you want it to, Laura. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I know."

"Then trust in what we have together, what we are to one another and are meant to be together. Stop fighting it."

"I'm trying."

"I know."

"I could get used to this."

"I already have," he admitted, then ran his fingers under her jaw and tipped her chin up, before kissing her softly. "Get some sleep, Miss Holt."

"I think I will," she agreed, snuggling more tightly against him.

"I'll be here when you wake up."

"I know."

Steele continued to caress Laura's arm, until her deep, jagged sigh told him she'd fallen asleep.

 _Progress_ , he thought to himself before giving into sleep himself, _is a wonderful thing_.


	3. Chapter 3

(Chapter Three)

Steele awoke mid-morning while Laura, normally the early riser, continued to sleep on. Sometime during the night they had changed positions. While he still held Laura secure in his embrace, she was now spooned into his body, her firm bottom tucked snugly into his lap. His body was raging with desire, brought on by her small movements throughout the night that proved just the right friction in the position they now lay.

Steele was not at all surprised by his current condition. Closing in on three years of celibacy would have been cause enough to explain his current state. The fact that he held in his arms the woman he loved and wanted more than he had ever wanted another would have been explanation enough. The two, combined together, however, was a toxic combination which guaranteed his body would flare with need at the slightest touch.

When Laura wriggled against him again in her sleep, he nearly came out of his skin. Carefully untwining his arms from her body, he put a couple of inches between them, needing some relief from the delicious torture her proximity was causing. He contented himself with simply observing her sleeping form, admiring her delicate frame, the soft curve of her hip, the fall of her hair across her shoulder. He was stunned when he found himself mapping out the lines of symmetry in his head, as though he had a pad and pencil in hand, preparing to sketch her.

He had to admit that since he had drawn the storyline for the Blaster during the Wayne case, he'd felt a certain pull to renew, rehone the skills he'd learned when Daniel had sent him off to commercial art school at seventeen. Of course, neither Daniel nor he had imagined Steele pursuing a career with his newly acquired skills, well at least not a legitimate one. No, the skills would come in handy when a certain amount of creativity was required for creating documents that appeared legitimate. It had simply been coincidental that he'd displayed a natural artistic ability that transcended the fabrication of documents. For several years after departing the school, he'd finessed his talent, until the day came that his career had taken precedence.

When he'd drawn the Blaster strip in order to trap Artie Wayne, it had been a little over a decade since he had put his skills to use. Since then, his hands had fairly itched at times to pick up a pencil and immerse himself into turning lines into a reflection of what he saw in the world around him.

At the moment, all he could see was Laura, not exactly surprising, he knew, since his eyes automatically sought her out whenever she was near. Watching her sleep now, he could picture in his mind creating a lifelike rendition of how she appeared at this moment in time: the tranquility of sleep removing the mask of cool professionalism she so often wore and revealing the tender, vulnerable woman that she hid from the world so well.

Entranced by her, by the idea of sitting down with a sketch pad and committing this moment to paper where even time immemorial could not erase it from his memory, he reached out and ran the back of his fingers down the length of her silken hair, gently sweeping it back over her shoulder so all her profile was revealed to him. The realization that he could have avoided those gut wrenching moments when he could not envision her face at will during these last four months had he only committed her image to paper was not lost on him. Now, he simply wanted to memorize every detail of her at this moment so that he could bring her imagine to life by his own hand during those days and evenings they were apart.

So lost in thought was he, that he didn't even notice her eyelashes flutter as she came awake. Even in her sleep she could feel his eyes on her, so in sync was she with him. As her eyes opened she turned her head towards him and witnessed the gentle caress of his own, even though he had clearly taken up residence in his own head.

Maneuvering herself, she turned until she was facing him, then like he, propped her head up on her hand, her elbow anchored to the bed. At her movement, he became fully cognizant once more, and by the time she had turned fully towards him, a smile lit his blue eyes.

"Nice of you to join me, Miss Holt," he teased.

"How long have you been awake?"

"A bit," he acknowledged.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"For purely selfish reasons, I assure you," he answered her honestly, reaching out to sweep her hair back over her shoulder before brushing his fingers along her jawline.

"Oh?"

"Simply enjoying watching you sleep. You're absolutely lovely, Laura."

Laura lifted her hand and ran it along his whiskered jaw, then leaned forward and pressed her lips against his stubbled cheek, drawing a pleased grin from Steele.

 _How could I have ever thought I belonged anywhere but here with him_ , she asked herself.

"Any insights on how we should spend the day today?" she asked.

"Maybe a few."

"Care to share?" she asked, as she watched him climb out of bed, her eyes taking in his form appreciatively.

Steele turned to answer her when he saw her admiring gaze wander along his body, her teeth catching her lower lip between them. Facing her fully, he held out both his hands to her, and when she took them, he kept hold as she climbed out of bed then he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a hug. Laura nuzzled her face in the crook of his shoulder, before lying her lips softly against his neck.

 _How_ , he asked himself, _did I make it four months without her in my arms_?

"So, about today?" she reminded him.

"I was thinking along the lines of breakfast here to begin. Then perhaps spend the afternoon in the park before dinner at L'Ornate, followed by an evening in front of the fire here," he suggested.

"Sounds wonderful," she told him, clearly pleased.

"But first, a proper good morning," he whispered. Tipping up her chin, he gently but thoroughly kissed, her, lips warm and demanding, drawing her into the magic of the moment. When he ended the kiss, he pulled her back into a hug, tucking his head against her neck and rubbing his cheek against it. Laura hummed with pleasure at the sensation.

"Shall we get this day started then?" he murmured, as he lay his lips softly against her neck.

"Let's," she agreed, pulling back to look up at him. "I'll get ready while you're cooking breakfast."

Steele nodded his own agreement, then grinned as she ran her hands across his shoulders and kissed him again quickly before they separated to start their day.

* * *

After a day at the park, filled with playfulness and long walks, they had enjoyed a romantic evening at L'Ornate, eating, dancing and simply taking pleasure in one another's company. The day had been what both of their battled souls had needed after four months separation during which Laura was plagued with wondering if Steele was gone for good, while he had been hounded by visions of her in Westfield's arms and consumed with the idea he would never find his real name and be able to return to her. They had needed time, and after gifting themselves with just that, the ghosts of the night that had torn them apart were finally chased away.

Laura lay stretched out before the fireplace, head propped up on a pillow, with her eyes closed smiling blissfully as Steele massaged her tired feet and calves. Seated on the floor, his back propped against one of the living room chairs, he found himself amazingly content with simply watching her as he eased the kinks out. Laura, stubborn woman that she was, rarely allowed him the luxury of taking care of her. But this? This she not only allowed him to do, but relished every moment of.

"Mmmmm," she hummed, "You're _very_ good at this."

"So I've been told," he acknowledged, smiling at her.

He felt Laura imperceptibility tense under his fingers, but it passed so quickly he wondered if he imagined it. Glancing at her, he saw the furrow of her brow, then watched as she forcefully relaxed her face. He knew then that something was troubling her, just as he knew he would have to let her approach whatever it was in her own way, her own time. He had learned the hard way: very rarely could you push Laura Holt and not have her shut down completely on you.

"Have you been told that recently?" she asked casually, eyes still closed.

Steele raised a brow while looking at her sideways, then frowned briefly.

"I haven't had the pleasure of massaging your feet, lately," he pointed out just as casually.

Laura knew that her reaction to his words was foolish. Yet as soon as he had said 'So I've been told,' her mind had immediately gone to Felicia confronting her at the Earl's wedding reception, to Felicia telling her that Steele had made love to the woman by a lake. That he had made love to Felicia after he had spent the night with Laura in the tenement, holding her in his arms all night. She reminded herself, again, that they were not together then, they were not committed, she had broken it off with him, he was free to do as he pleased. Hell, he was free to do as he wished, regardless of whether they were together or not.

She knew it was irrational, but it hurt none the less.

Steele laid Laura's left leg back down on the floor, then picking up the right began to work his magic once more. He wished, silently, that she would just address whatever was bothering her head on so that they could deal with it, then expel its heavy presence from the room. He, thankfully, didn't have to wait long.

"Received compliments from anyone else lately?" she asked in the same easy manner.

Laura's eyes flew open at her own words. Horrified with herself, she tried to pull her foot away so she could get up and put distance between them, but Steele held firm. Seeing that he was about to respond, she held up her hand, as a flush climbed her face.

"No, no. Don't answer that," she insisted, "What you do with other women is none of my business. I'm sorry. You're a grown man, and I'm a grown woman. We are both free to have whatever liaisons we want, without answering to each other."

Steele continued to massage her foot as though nothing had been said at all. Outwardly he appeared unaffected by her words. Inwardly, her assertion of 'you're a grown man, I'm a grown woman,' made his gut clench as it had always done when she would say those words. He waited until she was done speaking before he said anything. When Laura closed her eyes and settled back into the pillows, he knew she believed the topic was closed.

"It's very cosmopolitan for you to feel that way, Laura. However, as shocking at this may be to you, I have always found myself quite provincial in this regard…when it comes to you."

Laura opened her eyes and looked at him, their eyes catching.

"What do you mean?"

"This business you're always spouting on about that I'm grown man, you're a grown woman. While we are certainly that, I have never been very fond of the implications that you would be okay with me having – assignations, shall we say? – with other women. Speaking for myself, I would not be, uh, so libertarian if the shoe were on the opposite foot."

"We have no hold on one another, no right to ask one another to refrain from, uh, satisfying basic human needs. Especially when we're not…" Laura trailed off.

"Satisfying those basic needs with one another?" he supplied.

"Yes," she sighed.

"I suppose if we were conducting a meaningless fling, I could see your point, although I would still find myself taking issue with it."

Laura shoved herself up on both elbows so that she could look at him more closely, so that she could read his body language, see his eyes more clearly when he spoke.

"You would?" she asked, alternately stunned and pleased at the same time.

"Hell, yes," he answered brusquely, a tad miffed that she could even ask, wonder at all. "And I find myself a bit put out that you would be okay with me dallying with other women, as though what we have between us is of no value."

Steele lay her foot down on the floor, then leaned further back against the chair. His frustration was written clearly across his face.

"That's not what I meant," she told him.

"That's the implication. 'Go off and shag whomever you wish, it's fine by me.' You have a nasty habit, Laura, of minimizing what we have between us, unintentional though it may be. Or perhaps I have misread what I believe we have been working towards these last three years, for I've certainly not seen this, us, as a fling, meaningless or otherwise. "

Laura sat up, then scooted herself over until she was sitting next to his side.

"You haven't misread it at all. Whatever we're doing here isn't a fling, it's not meaningless, at least not to me. If I believed it only to be that, you wouldn't scare me so much, it wouldn't have bothered me as much as it did when…" she admitted to him softly.

Steele let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding at her admission. His relief was so great that it took him a moment to register her last words. When he did, he turned his head to look at her.

"When, what, Laura?"

Laura closed her eyes and shook her head, before opening her eyes again. She had realized her gaffe too late as she had spoken, having been too wrapped up in trying to soothe the turbulent waters she had stirred.

"When, what, Laura?" he repeated.

Laura rolled her eyes in vexation.

"You're just going to persist until I tell you, aren't you?"

"Seems to be a trait we share," he acknowledged.

"It's nothing," she lied.

"If it's nothing, then there should be no issue telling me, right?" he cajoled.

Laura exhaled deeply and looked away from him. Steele reached over and took her chin in his fingers, turning her head gently until she looked at him.

"Laura, tell me," he prodded quietly.

Laura averted her eyes and growled under her breath, wishing he would just let it go and knowing he wouldn't.

"When Felicia told me you had slept with her while in London."

"Had I now? Did she tell you exactly when this was to have transpired?" he asked. Suddenly bemused, he released his hold on her chin and picked up her hand, running his thumb back and forth across her palm.

"The night before the Earl's wedding reception," she bit out. "Can we move on, please?"

"Let's not. Where was this to have happened?"

"I don't know, some lake. Please, can we just forget about this and move on. I didn't mean to bring it up, it just slipped out!" Laura said, clearly frustrated, as she pulled her legs up underneath of her to stand.

Steele's arm reached out and moved around her waist, preventing her from walking away.

"Sit down, Laura," he commanded softly. "Please sit. We need to clear some air, to reach an understanding."

Laura sat back down next to him, and within moments her hand was at her brow.

"There's no air to clear," she told him wearily. "It's not my business. I had no right to ask."

"You have every right," he contradicted softly.

Laura glanced at him doubtfully.

"Perhaps if we had been together then. But we weren't. I had ended it…"

"You think it was any easier for me, when you were cavorting about with that Neanderthal Beamis?" Steele asked, interrupting her. "You had ended us in Cannes, so by all rights it should not have stung as it did when I arrived at your loft, found you there in your robe and knowing that you and he had likely just…"

"I didn't. We never…" she interrupted, needing to erase the pain she had seen flit through his eyes at the memory.

 _Why does he put up with me, after all I've put him through?_ she wondered to herself. _I knew it hurt him to believe that I had slept with Butch and allowed him to keep on believing it anyway in order to put more distance between us._

He froze, and stared at her. He had not been questioning her, had merely just been trying to provide perspective. But the words she had spoken had almost felt as though they were a gift. He reached for her hand, and lacing his fingers with her own, gave her hand a squeeze.

"I wish I had known. It would have saved me many a sleepless night at the time," he admitted. "But that's rather my point, isn't it? Why suffer needlessly, when a simple question and answer can end it?"

"I'm fine, really. I don't need to know," she insisted.

 _I don't want to know, if the answer is that you did,_ she admitted to herself. _I had opened the door for you by ending us, and if you turned to someone else, I'll have to live with the situation I created. But why, did it have to be Felicia of all people… if it were only she? The only person that could possibly hurt more is if it had been Anna._

"I disagree. I suspect you have been chewing on this since Felicia cornered you…" Steele contradicted, interrupting her thoughts.

He watched her carefully before he said the next words, and saw her flinch when he spoke them.

"Especially after the time we had spent together in the flophouse. Am I right?"

He nodded to himself as he saw her response, and squeezed her hand once more.

"That's what I thought."

He lifted her chin once more so that she was looking at him.

"Ask the question, Laura."

She was just about to refuse again, when she looked at him. She knew she would not know how to explain it if anyone were to ask, but in that moment she realized it was as important to him that she ask the question as it was to her to know the answer, no matter what it was. Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to his and held them as she spoke.

"Did you go to bed with Felicia?"

"No. I've not been to bed with her since before you and I met, although she has offered many a time." he answered.

"No?" She knew it was not the response he was expecting, but it was the only one she could offer as her brain tried to wrap itself around the answer.

"No," he repeated firmly, as his hand reached up and he ran the back of his long fingers down her cheek, while looking at her with a tenderness that stopped her heart. "The only woman I want to make love to, Laura, is the one sitting next to me right now."

"Oh?"

"Oh," he whispered in agreement as he lay his lips on hers for only a heartbeat before moving away again.

Laura slid herself over until her side was meshed against his own. Lying her head on his shoulder, she pressed a kiss against his neck, before relaxing against him when his arm moved around her back to her waist and pulled her against himself as though in a hug.

Laura wondered for what seemed like the thousandth time since she had ended things here in this apartment if she had momentarily had lost her sanity when she did it. She vowed then and there that she would never allow her fear to get in between them again. In the spirit of that promise to herself, she decided to be honest about something she had lied about for years.

"You know that line, Mr. Steele?"

Steele threw her a questioning look as he wondered which specific 'line' to which she was referring.

"'I'm a grown woman and you're a grown man?'" she reminded him, then felt him stiffen slightly at her side.

"All too well, I'm afraid," he fairly huffed.

Laura adjusted her position so that she fit a little more tightly against his side, then began running her hand back and forth over his chest, feeling him relax once more under her caress.

"I wasn't okay with that blonde, bimbo cheerleader, Milicent…"

"I never asked that woman to spend the night, Laura," he asserted, cutting her off.

It still galled him that she had never allowed him the opportunity to defend himself when Millicent had lied during the bachelor case nearly a year and a half before.

* * *

 _ **After being run over by a car, Laura and Millicent had returned to Steele's apartment from the emergency room, jointly pushing him a wheelchair. The hit-and-run had left him with three broken ribs, a broken leg and a myriad of cuts and contusions. After dispatching Millicent to the kitchen to make him some tea, Laura had helped him get into his bed.**_

" _ **Easy. Watch the leg. Don't jostle the ribs. Careful," he had coached her, through the breathtaking pain each movement caused.**_

 _ **"Mind my shoes. It's a very expensive shoe," he had directed, although his mind was consumed by only one thought: he had to make her believe that he had never asked Millicent to spend the night despite the other woman's patently false claims.**_

" _ **Laura, I did not invite that woman to spend the night."**_

 _ **"Please. We have more important things to talk about," she told him, her voice strident, as she turned to move away from him.**_

 _ **Steele had grabbed at her, trying to get her to sit down with him so they could talk. The sudden movement had him moaning in pain.**_

 _ **"There's nothing more important than ahh-"**_

 _ **"Do you want a pill?"**_

 _ **"I need to talk to you."**_

 _ **"Look, you're a grown man, I'm a grown woman."**_

 _ **"Then why are we acting like two children?"**_

 _ **"Will you listen to me? Somebody poisoned Chip Carstairs' lemon chicken. Obviously something is emerging here, a pattern. Somebody is going around killing bachelors."**_

 _ **"In that case, will you marry me, Laura?"**_

 _ **She had patently ignored his request, and put more distance between them.**_

" _ **It doesn't make sense."**_

 _ **"Perhaps it's not *supposed* to make sense."**_

 _ **"What does that mean?"**_

 _ **" 'The ABC Murders'."**_

 _ **"I think I saw that one. William Powell and Myrna Loy, right?"**_

 _ **"I'm afraid it was never made into a movie. It's an Agatha Christie novel in which A wants to kill C but kills B first to divert suspicion."**_

 _ **"Because he has no motive to kill B?"**_

 _ **"Precisely. The police attempt to solve the two deaths-"**_

 _ **"And A gets away with murder. If your theory is correct we still have to figure out what would make one of these men a victim. Oh my God."**_

 _ **Laura had grabbed the phone and begun dialing.**_

 _ **"What?"**_

 _ **"The fifth bachelor, Arnold Baskin. I was supposed to see him after I saw Carstairs. Only I had to talk to the police and then the hospital called…Busy," she told him, clearly frustrated as she slammed the receiver down on its base.**_

 _ **"Well at least you know that he is at home."**_

 _ **"He may be next on the list. I've got to warn him. I'll be back as soon as I can."**_

 _ **She had waved at him distractedly then headed for the door, only turning around as he spoke again.**_

 _ **"Just try to stay away from lemon chicken."**_

 _ **Laura's face filled with doubt, then compassion. She knew he was in pain, she knew that he was trying to desperately speak with her. But she had been hurting too much at the idea of his betrayal to listen. She still wasn't ready, but seeing him lying on that bed, injured, realizing she could have lost him that night, she had returned to stand next to the bed, then leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.**_

 _ **Steele, at the moment of contact, had moved his hand behind her neck, to hold her face close to his own. He had needed to try once more to get her to listen to him.**_

 _ **"I never invited Millicent to spend the night."**_

 _ **"We'll talk about it later," she had told him, her smile tight, her eyes injured.**_

 _ **Having no choice he accepted that she was unwilling to delve into the topic at the moment. It would have to wait.**_

 _ **Laura had turned and left the room while he watched her go.**_

* * *

"I know that now, just as I knew it then , once I had a chance to think," she assured him. "As I was saying, I wasn't okay with Millicent, not matter what I implied, and I hope you know I wouldn't be okay with it now."

"I had suspected, but it's nice to hear the words from you all the same," he told her, giving her another squeeze.

"So, maybe we can come to an agreement?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"It's rather simple actually. You are clearly not agreeable to me seeing someone else, or my being okay with you seeing someone else, and the same goes for me. We committed to one another in London, and to moving this… whatever it is between us… forward. Can we just agree that neither of us is amenable to the dating others while we concentrate on us?" she suggested reasonably.

Laura watched as a smile lit up Steele's face, and she could not help but smile in return.

"Why, Miss Holt, are you saying you want us to be, in that quaint sixties term, an 'item'?" he asked playfully, while wagging a brow at her.

"I guess I am, Mr. Steele. I take it you are okay with that?" she laughed as he wrapped both of his arms around her back and lowered them onto the pillows in front of the fire.

"I find the idea remarkably appealing, Laura," he murmured, the blue eyes looking down at her awash with tender pleasure at her words.

He dipped his head towards her in invitation, an invitation she gladly accepted as she lifted her head to meet him halfway. The kiss was long, lingering, part need to be close, part thanksgiving that they had somehow managed to work their way past another roadblock. Laura's hands glided over his sides, moving upwards until her hand settled across his upper shoulders, her fingers massaging the area lightly, as she sank further into the kiss.

Backing his head away from her own, Steele watched Laura, taking her in, waiting for the moment her eyes would open and meet his own. He was still assimilating the words they had just exchanged. She had all but claimed him for her own and in her doing so, he found himself overwhelmed with a contentment he had not before known in his life. There were times in his childhood that he had positively yearned for a family to do just that, yet they never had and simply had passed him on to the next without so much as looking back. As an adult he had made it a point to keep romantic interludes as that just that – momentary interchanges of pleasure with no interchange of emotions. He had only allowed himself to fall once, and the landing had been brutal when it came. Yet, even then, there had been no claims on one another.

Laura's eyes opened, searching his eyes, trying to figure out why he had pulled away. When her eyes met his own, what he saw in them made the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. The woman he had wanted and loved for longer for what had begun to seem like a lifetime, had declared him hers alone. Laura had declared herself his alone, at least for now, at least until she ran again. He found himself silently offering a prayer that those days were past.

Her fingers running softly against the back of his neck before placing gently weight there, urging him back to her, was all the encouragement he needed. Leaning back down, he brushed her lips with his own several times, until her hand once more applied pressure, encouraging him to settle his mouth more firmly upon her own. He was only too happy to comply, deepening the kiss, losing himself in it with a soft hum of pleasure.

His lips briefly stilled as he felt her hands brush across the top of his buttocks, searching for the tails of his shirt, so they could seek out the bare skin of his back. Reclaiming her lips, he nibbled on them softly, before slowly running a line of kisses along her jaw line until he found the silken skin of her neck. Laura exhaled in a hum of pleasure, her breath ruffling his hair, when he ran his lips along the area where her neck met her shoulder. Her hands briefly gave up trying to find a clear path under the back of his shirt, moving to the back of his head, encouraging his pursuit of this sensitive area. His blood turned molten at her response, and he shifted slightly on top of her, trying to conceal his rapidly lengthening erection before the sign of his arousal caused her to pull away as it had far too many nights in the past.

Laura's hands moved to the front of his chest. Wriggling her arms between them, she flattened her palms against his shoulder and gave him a gentle push up and away from her. Steele sighed to himself, but always the gentleman pushed himself up on his arms to move away from her, at her signal to stop. Leaning down he pressed his lips to her forehead then stayed there frozen as he watched her hands reach up and undo one button of his shirt at a time.

Laura knew she had shocked him, had seen it in how he had stilled his body. She smiled softly to herself at the knowledge and the irony. They had shared a bed three nights now, and all three nights she had lain in his arms, her head, her arm, her hand lying against the bare skin of his chest. She had begun to memorize, through touch, the ripple of his ribs, the muscles of his chest that shifted under her fingers responding to their movement, the texture of the hair that covered the expanse of his chest and became less dense at it moved down his abdomen. She had never before realized that the contact they had been sharing could be simultaneously sensual and comforting at the same time. She longed now, to learn the nuances of his back, the feel of his smooth skin under her fingertips, the rigidity of his spine and how his back sloped gently outwards from it.

Lifting her eyes to his, she held his blue eyes with her golden brown ones as she slipped her hands under the shoulders of his shirt and pushed it over them. She skimmed her hand over his shoulder and up his neck, before laying it tenderly against his cheek, while tipping her head up to brush her lips against his.

"Take it off," she half-commanded, half-pleaded, her voice a near whisper.

Steele moved to her side on his knees, and held her eyes with his own, as he stripped the shirt off and dropped it to the floor. He knew very well that sex was off the table for the weekend, which perhaps made the moment all the more poignant for him. The fact that she craved the experience of feeling his skin under her fingers as much as he needed to feel her hands brush against his bare flesh, spoke of a new level of intimacy that had evolved between them, an acceptance of their need to be close to one another.

He hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling like an awkward schoolboy about to embark in his first romantic encounter. Was it presumptuous to assume she would want him to resume lying on top of her, her length pressed against his own? Would a movement in that direction break the spell that had weaved itself around both of them? Should he stretch out at her side, close, touching, but allowing her to come to him? He watched as Laura's eyes lit with understanding of his silent struggle.

"Come back," she urged softly, her hand reaching out so her fingers could skim down the center of his chest while she spoke.

He moved over top of her, claiming her lips under his as he lowered himself carefully back down over her, dropping his head to her shoulder as her hands moved to explore his back. He inhaled sharply, as he felt her mouth brush across his bare shoulder, before her lips began to explore his neck, while her hands continued to caress his shoulders, his sides, his lower back. His body quaked under her ministrations, his need for her building to heights he had not known before.

Lifting his head, he kissed her deeply, passionately, conveying the extent of his longing, his desire for her. At her moan of pleasure, his lips moved down to her neck, suckling, tasting, nibbling. When his lips moved to where her neck met her shoulder, she arched her body against his, as her she lightly ran her fingernails down his back, sending a shimmer of deep pleasure coursing through his body. He hummed in pleasure against her neck, and felt her stiffen beneath him, nearly imperceptibly.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he leaned down and kissed her forehead before moving off of her and sitting up, his back propped up against the chair where he had sat not long before. Holding out a hand to her, he helped her up, then gave her a gentle tug. Following his silent request, she sat down between his legs and leaned backwards into his arms. Tilting her head back, she lay her lips against the side of her neck.

"I want to feel your hands touching me," she confessed, her breath caressing his ear as she spoke. "I'm just not ready for us…"

"Laura, there's no need to explain," he told her, his hands moving to her shoulders, massaging away the tension that was forming there. "We agreed to take our time in London, not to mention we have a clear agreement that there would be no sex this weekend. If you hadn't have reached the point that you needed to stop, I would have."

She signed, leaning slightly forward to give his hands more access.

"That feels wonderful," she murmured.

Steele's hands stopped their motion, considering the thought that had just crossed through his head at the moment.

"Laura, do you trust me? Trust that I would not push you to do anything you're not ready for, I mean?"

Laura turned her head and looked over her shoulder at him, frowning slightly.

"Of course I do. Why would you even ask that?"

Shoving himself up off the floor, he walked over and picked up his shirt from where he had tossed it.

"Take off your shirt and pants and put this on," he told her.

Laura raised a brow at him.

"Trust, Miss Holt, trust," he laughed. "I'll be right back."

Laura watched him walk into the bedroom, then considered the shirt in her hand. She had just told him she trusted him, and she did. He had never given her cause to believe he would try to take more than she was willing to give…actually quite the opposite. She had also worn far less than his shirt, which would fit her almost like a dress, when they spent the night together in the tenement house. While they had certainly made out, he hadn't attempted to take any liberties that she had not freely given him. For that matter, she had worn exactly what he asked her to put on tonight, his shirt, when she had spent the night with him here after her house was destroyed. The night she had offered herself to him and he had refused.

 _What the hell,_ she thought to herself.

Standing she turned her back to the bedroom, then unbuttoned her shirt and stripped it off. She paused for a moment, then giving herself another shrug, unclasped her bra and dropped it on top of her blouse on the chair to join her shirt. Picking up his shirt, she slid it on, and once it was buttoned, reached under it and pulled off her slacks.

Steele reemerged from the bedroom, then sat back down in front of the chair. Holding out his hand to Laura, she resumed her position between his legs, giving him a curious glance as she did so.

Holding up a bottle of lotion in front of her, he told her, "I had to nick this from your overnight case. I hope you don't mind. I don't have any lying about myself."

"Do you have a sudden need for baby soft hands?" she asked with a laugh.

"Hmmmm, something like that," he answered with a laugh of his own.

Setting the bottle of lotion down next to his leg, he reached around Laura and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. She stiffened noticeably against him, causing him to pause his movements.

"Trust me, Laura," he whispered against her ear.

Laura took a deep breath, then letting it out, nodded against his chest. He resumed unbuttoning his shirt until only three buttons remained fastened, then gently nudged the shirt over her shoulders until her back was bared nearly to her waist, while allowing her to maintain coverage over her breast and below.

"Okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she acknowledged, her hand reaching over and caressing the outside of his thigh.

Picking up the bottle of lotion he squeezed a generous portion in his hand, then rubbed his hands together to warm it. He spread the lotion up her back before settling at her shoulders, his fingers gentle yet firm as he began to massage her tense shoulders. After a couple of minutes, she leaned forward to allow him more access to her back, humming with pleasure as she did so. By the time he worked his way down to her mid-back, Laura felt like all her bones had turned to Jello she was so relaxed.

"You are amazing at this," she sighed. "No wonder Felicia told me to be certain to experience your Tibetan massage."

Steele closed his eyes and laughed silently to himself. Laura was certainly deeply relaxed if she could mention Felicia without her hackles rising. Leaning forward, he nestled his face between her shoulder and neck. Before sitting back once more, he pressed a kiss against her neck, the dropped his hands.

"Why are you stopping? This feels like heaven," she protested on a sigh.

"Button up then lay down on your stomach," he instructed.

Laura glanced at him questioningly, then shrugged, bringing a smile to his face. Rarely did Laura ever do anything she was asked, let alone told, to do without a barrage of questions centering on what and why. In this case, she simply placed her faith in him, and did as he asked, reminding him again of some shift that had taken place between them over the course of the last three days.

Grabbing her shirt from the back of the chair, pausing for a moment to raise a brow of purely masculine interest at the scrap of red lace that was her bra lying on top of it, he moved to her. Lifting the tail of his shirt up, he paused for a moment, captivated by the sight of her bottom clad only in panties that matched the bra he had just held.

Laura laughed, knowing full well what had caught his attention.

"Mr. Steele, are you still with me?" she teased.

He was appalled to realize he was blushing, having been caught, as heat crept up over his neck and across his face.

"Uh, yes, yes," he told her, while he hurriedly draped her shirt over her bottom.

Pushing his shirt up until it lie just under her breasts, he again grabbed the bottle of lotion and poured some more onto his palm, once more warming it between his own hands before spreading it on her back. As his fingers began to work their magic once more, Laura again hummed her pleasure.

"So is this the Tibetan massage?"

"I am using portions of the technique, yes, but it is by no means the, uh, shall we say, complete act."

"Do I not rate?" she teased him.

"There will come a day that I would be more than pleased to share that with you, but today is certainly not that day."

"Why is that?"

"First, it takes around two hours from start to finish, and given the hour, along with the fact that we both have to be in the office tomorrow morning, there's not enough time."

"And second?"

"You are by no means ready to experience that with me yet."

"Why is that?"

"Because it is a full head-to-toe massage, that leaves not an inch of your body untouched," he told her frankly, then smiled as he watched a flush creep up her face.

"Oh, I see."

The lapsed into silence as he continued to concentrate on loosening her muscles. When at last, her muscles were like putty under his fingers, he pulled down the tail of his shirt, before pulling her own off her bottom and tossing it back on the chair. Grabbing their wine glasses off of the table, he stretched out on his side facing her, and then offered her glass to her when she did the same. Propping herself up on and elbow she took a sip of wine, then watched him for several long moments.

"Something on your mind?" he asked with a smile.

"I was thinking I really should go home tonight. It seems silly for you to have get up early in order to drive me across town so I can get ready for work."

"Or you could take the Auburn in the morning, and I can have Fred pick me up and take me in. Then tomorrow evening I can drop you round home," he suggested.

Laura pursed her lips, and glanced upwards, pretending to consider it.

"You've convinced me," she grinned at him. "Are you ready to get some sleep, Mr. Steele?"

"Where you go, I'll follow, Miss Holt."

"Then why don't you go get ready for bed, while I clean up out here?" she suggested.

Standing, he held his hand out to her, helping her up.

"Sounds like a plan."

Laura watched as he left the room, eyeing his backside with appreciation. _The man does amazing things to a pair of jeans_ , she thought to herself with a little sigh of appreciation. She looked up to realize he had turned around and caught her red handed admiring the view. She blushed profusely, then grabbed their wine glasses and the empty bottle of the wine, heading quickly to the kitchen, as he smiled smugly after her.

After cleaning the wine glasses and restoring the living room to order, Laura went into his and hearing the shower still running quickly changed into her pajamas then climbed into his bed. There was no use in pretending, she acknowledged to herself, as both knew that they would be sleeping together as they had the two nights before. Looking around the room, she realized it no longer held the ghosts of the night she had come there and found him gone. Now when she looked around, all she could see is what they might be there together one day. The thought was as exhilarating as it was comforting.

When Steele emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp from the shower, he held his pajama top in hand. Holding it up, he raised a brow in question to her.

"Lose it," she told him simply.

Tossing it on the chair next to the bathroom, he walked across the room and without hesitation slid into bed next to her. He reached out and turned off the light, then stretched out, wrapping Laura in his arms as she curled up into his side as she had in nights past. They lay together in contemplative silence, her hand running up and down his side, his the length of her arm. After several minutes, Laura shifted to her side, facing away from him. Reaching behind her, she found his hand, and with a gentle tug, encouraged to roll to his side. Laura tucked herself into his body, spooning with him, while joining her fingers with his own and tucking their joined hands in the valley between her breasts. Steele wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her tight against him.

"I was wrong, you know," she told him, her voice hushed.

"Oh, about what?" he asked quietly, his breath caressing her hair.

"This, these past three nights, they're my favorite."

"Mine as well, Laura, mine as well."

"I never thought it would be like this."

"Like what?"

"Peaceful…contented…almost reverent…safe."

"You feel safe with me?"

"Hmmmm," she hummed in the affirmative. "I've been afraid of you for so long, that I always thought that when I finally lay in your arms to sleep, that same fear that makes me push you away would consume me."

"And now?"

"Now, a part of me believes that you'll never let me go, not if you can help it. That you need to hold me maybe as much as I need to be held."

"Perhaps more. Did you ever think of that, Laura?"

"What do you mean?"

"This thing between us, whatever it is, it's about far more than just sex. We both know it. We need one another. That's what scares the both of us."

"I know. But I'm not afraid right now. Just…"

"Happy?" he ventured.

Laura nestled herself more closely into his body, smiling as his arms reflexively adjusted to hold her nearer.

"Very."

Steele nuzzled the side of her head with his face.

"Myself as well."

Laura breathed in deeply, and exhaled loudly in the silently in the quiet room as he hand gripped his a little tighter.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I don't want this to end," she admitted.

"It's my fondest hope that there will be a day very soon where it won't have to, when I can wake with you in my arms every morning," he told her softly.

"I want that too, I hope you know that."

Laura felt him nod against her head.

"I do. But until that time, perhaps an agreement?"

"What kind of agreement?"

"That when we want or need time together as we have spent this weekend, we take it? No pressure. Just us wanting to be near one another."

"Sounds lovely," she mumbled sleepily.

"It does, doesn't it?" he answered, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

They were silent for several minutes, as sleep began wrapping itself around them.

"Laura?" he asked on a whisper.

"Hmmmmm?"

"Kiss me goodnight?"

Laura released the hand she was clasping to herself and turned slightly in his arms, lifting her head to see him. Reaching up, she lay her hand against his cheek.

"With pleasure," she mumbled, lifting her lips towards him.

Steele leaned down and kissed her gently several times, then after placing a kiss on her forehead, snuggled back down in the bed, pulling her back tight against him.

A smile of pleasure lit his face as Laura reclaimed his hand, joining their fingers together once more and holding both their hands close to her body.

Tomorrow the real world would intrude once more, but how much better that world looked now that they were back together where they belonged.

They both gave a small sigh of contentment and drifted off to sleep.

When Steele woke in the morning, Laura was gone. Already the apartment, his room, his bed, felt so much more lonely than it had mere hours before.

Suddenly, he grinned. Pushing himself out of bed, he headed to the bathroom.

Time for Remington Steele to report to the office for the first time since had disappeared briefly into that misty night.

Time for he and his partner to get back to work.


End file.
